ANYTA  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


ANYTA 


OTHER    POEMS 


GEORGE  Hf  CALVERT. 


BOSTON: 

E.   P.   BUTTON  AND   COMPANY. 

NEW  YORK :  HURD  AND  HOUGHTON. 

1866. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

GEORGE   B.  CALVERT, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Rhode  Island 


RIVERSIDE,    CAMBRIDGE  : 

STEREOTYPED    AND    PRINTED    BY 

H.   0.   HOUGHTON  AND   COMPANY 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

ANYTA         .'.'.*.       .        .        .        .        .        .11 

OTHER    POEMS. 

A  HARP  OF  MANY  STRINGS 51 

WASHINGTON 56 

PREVISIONS 65 

LOVE 69 

To  A  ROSE      .        .        . J     77 

ALONE '    v        .     79 

THE  DEMON •>'-:•  ••  ">     •        81 

SONG  OP  BIRDS  BEFORE  DAWN  .  .  .  •  ;.•••'.  106 
CHILDREN  ..  ,,  ..  ...  •.  .^  ••  '•  *  108 
STRIKE  NOT  A  CHILD  .  ..  ».  .  .•  •'.  '  ••  .110 


M191794 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

P°ETS        ••<,.....         .         .112 

AKlNG         ..........  114 

THE  MEETING.        ....       V-  124 

DOWNWARD         .  *  .  oc 

•  •  .I/O 

THE  YOUNG  MOTHER     ...     .,       .        .       .  •  19? 

•  •        V      :-         •         •         .         .        J      .130 

VEILS       •        '        •        •        •        •        •       '.        ,,-„.-     138 


'        '        •        •        ..        .        .        .        .  .140 

FOREVER  .        .        .        .        ....       .  142 

A  STAR       •        •        •        •  '     •        •        .        ,   '    .  '  .  148 

MONODY  ON  HORATIO  GREENOUGH     .  150 


SONNETS. 

To  KEATS   .        ......     .  .  ,.  .     ./"....  .157 

To  SHELLEY    .  .     .  .     .  .     *       .4'4     .  .  \.  .  158 

To  COLERIDGE    .  .     ,  .     «  .     .  .     ......  .  159 

To  WORDSWORTH,.        ..     *.      .        .        ..     .^  IgO 

To  GOETHE         .  .     .  .     .  •/    .',  .*       •     ,:  *  -  .  ici 

To  MILTON      ..       ..      ..      «.      ^.      ..      ..      <;  ,      162 

To  SHAKESPEARE       ...     ».     ..         <:..'. 


CONTENTS.  vn 

PAGE 

To  DANTE       .        .        ....        .        .        •      164 

To  HOMER  .      '  . 165 

To  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES  .        .       .       •       .       .      166 

To  ENGLAND       .        . 167 

To  SCOTT     -    .':'.-...        .        .        .   -:    •        •      168 

To  ANDERSON 169 

To  LUTHER  170 


ANYTA. 


ANYTA. 


THY  happy  tongue  strings  vocal  pearls 
From  morn  to  eve  through  listening  noon  ; 

Thou  shakest  beauty  from  thy  curls, 
As  on  the  longest  day  of  June 

The  Sun  pours  splendor  from  his  eyes, 

Thou  font  of  sinless  ecstasies. 

Thou  indoor  Sun,  whose  gendering  ray 

Is  the  glad  look  thy  smile  that  crests, 
Thy  little  self  sheds  light  all  day, 


12  ANYTA. 

Kindling  new  love  in  thankful  breasts, 
And  breeding  such  good  thoughts  in  me 
That  I  am  inly  warmed  by  thee. 

And  was  I  once  as  thou  now  art, 
My  days  with  rosy  blossoms  rife  ? 

Therefore  it  is  thy  little  heart 

Singing  so  true  fresh  songs  of  life, 

Tunes  mine  upon  a  wiser  key, 

A.nd  makes  me  find  myself  in  thee. 

1853. 


ii. 

My  feelings  grow  too  large  for  speech, 

If  on  the  cliff  in  vivid  hour 
I  stand,  and  with  my  mind  would  reach 

About  the  sea  and  clasp  its  power. 


ANYTA.  13 

When  reverend  Night,  opening  her  eyes, 
Bends  all  their  pomp  of  look  on  me, 

Dilated  by  the  light,  I  rise 

On  thoughts  of  hushed  solemnity. 

Thy  great  new  eyes  light  in  me  thought 
Deeper  than  sea  or  night  can  draw, 

To  speechless  love  and  wonder  wrought, 
Gazing  in  them  with  holy  awe. 


in. 


The  life  that  flashes  in  the  cloud 
Dies  in  its  thunder-greeted  birth : 
The  night  it  scatters  from  the  earth 

Reclasps  it  with  an  earthy  shroud. 


14  ANYTA. 

Quick  kindled  from  a  sphere  still  higher 
Are  lightnings  mixt  of  finer  light, 
That  die  not,  quenched  in  sudden  night, 

But  live  a  steadfast  sacred  fire. 

Like  suns  new-lit  by  th'  Architect, 
Who  warms  th'  eternal  domes  above, 
Fresh  flashes  issuing  from  his  love 

Warm  thee,  by  his  great  hand  bedeckt. 

And  thus  in  glistening  unity 

Thy  beauties  inly  bud  and  flower : 

Thou  beam'st  with  daily  brightened  power, 

Each  day  more  full  of  Deity. 


ANYTA.  15 


IV. 

With  thee  't  is  ever  morning, 

Thou  playmate  of  the  Hours ; 
Young  Time  keeps  young,  adorning 

Thy  life  with  dewy  flowers. 
Thy  minutes  all  are  blessings, 

Rained  from  an  inward  Heaven ; 
We  share  them  through  caressings, 

Regiving  what  thou  ?st  given. 
Hope's  fondling,  pet  of  gladness, 
Of  prattling  joy 
The  ready  toy, 
Thy  coming  gilds  the  clouds  of  sadness. 


ANYTA. 

Is  it  a  fiery  breathing, 

The  pulsing  of  the  brain, 
In  the  rich  turmoil  seething 

Of  its  initial  gain  ? 
Or  does  imagination, 

Enfreed  by  thee  and  fed, 
Exhale  an  emanation 

To  girt  thy  glittering  head? 
For  lo  !  a  golden  glory 
Circles  thy  brow: 
It  fronts  me  now, 
Palpable  as  that  of  sacred  story. 

Fresh  orb  of  holy  fire, 

That  sun'st  our  earthy  night, 
Thy  motion  swings  me  higher, 

Thou  singing  star  of  light ! 
The  splendor  in  thy  glances 

Relumes  my  darkened  youth  ; 


ANYTA.  17 


Thou  swell'st  my  tide  of  fancies 

New  satellite  of  truth. 
Wise  monitor  of  duty, 

Mysterious  child  ! 
In  thee  uppiled 
Are  treasuries  of  love  and  beauty. 


v. 
The  noonday  heat  hath  hushed  the  air, 

And  leaflets  drink  with  noiseless  glee 
Their  fill  of  light,  and  everywhere 

The  hot  earth  pulses  silently. 

Adown  through  ash-leaved  maple  limbs, 
That  guard  with  green  the  open  sash, 

A  thousand  rays  with  voiceless  hymns, 
A  golden  throng,  benignant  flash. 


18  ANYTA. 

The  light  and  air  serenely  keep 
A  smiling  watch  about  the  bed, 

Whereon  divine  resistless  sleep 

Hath  chained  those  lips,  that  restless  head. 

The  warm  beams  play  at  hide-and-seek 
'Mong  naked  knees  and  arms  and  curls, 

And  smoothly  glide  from  rounded  cheek, 
Like  flying  shadows  chased  from  pearls. 

And  whosoever  now  draws  nigh, 
A  loving  listening  silence  keeps, 

To  catch  that  whisper  from  on  high, 
The  breathing  of  a  child  that  sleeps. 


ANYTA.  19 


VI. 

Life's  tide  in  that  sleep-circled  breast 
Heaves  with  a  swell  so  much  more  worth 
Than  common  cadences  of  earth, 

It  might  be  breathings  of  the  blest. 

The  Builder  builds  a  being  rare, 
Flushing  it  full  with  virgin  power, 
And  in  its  rest,  that  holy  hour, 

Unresting  works  creative  there. 

And  Beauty  then  —  like  flowers  at  night, 
That  nurse  their  sweetness  in  their  sleep  - 
Crouches  to  spring  with  bolder  leap, 

And  seize  tranced  eyes  with  gaudier  light. 


ANYTA. 


VII. 

Of  genius  'tis  the  gorgeous  gift 

To  read  the  cipher  always  gleaming 

From  Nature's  face,  and  shrewdly  sift 
The  subtleties  of  her  wise  seeming. 

The  Artist's  large  elected  eye, 

Tracking  the  Almighty's  splendent  duty, 
Enraptured  sees  even  gross  things  lie 

Transfigured  by  the  soul  of  beauty. 

And  things  that  are  or  great  or  good 
Shine  with  a  twofold  lustre  glowing, 

Imburnished  by  his  purple  mood, 

Like  streams  'mid  autumn  foliage  flowing. 


ANYTA.  21 

These  trembling  moods,  by  plastic  might 

Transmuted  are  to  firm  creations, 
So  potent  fair,  they  grow  the  light 

And  glory  of  the  proudest  nations. 

And  kings  upraise  themselves  who  raise 
Art-palaces  to  ward  these  treasures, 

That  so  the  heart  with  joy  amaze, 

And  feed  such  inward  endless  pleasures, 

That  thoughtful,  thankful,  Christian  men, 
To  steep  their  eyes  in  these  pure  pages, 

Bringing  best  will  or  practised  ken, 
Make  to  them  votive  pilgrimages. 

And  such  a  Palace  broadly  stands, 

Its  walls  with  hallowed  handwork  flashing, 

Where  Elbe  is  proudest  of  her  lands, 
Her  waters  stately  Dresden  dashing. 


22  ANYTA. 

Here  flame-eyed  Rubens'  titan  brush 
Hastens  to  fix  the  thronged  emotions, 

Lightening  from  his  hot  brain,  that  gush 
In  fulgent  floods  of  grand  proportions. 

And  here  the  wisest  gaze  with  awe, 

To  see  unfolded  by  a  brother 
Beauty  transcending  earthly  law, — 

The  Saviour-Child  and  sainted  Mother, 

"  Madonna  di  San  Sisto  "  styled, 

Whereinto  holy  Raphael  melted 
His  boundless  being  undefiled :  — 

Those  radiant  heads,  with  grandeur  belted. 

Here  too  is  great  Correggio's  "Night." 

The  dawn,  that  through  Heaven's  portal  prieth, 

Has  not  yet  scaled  in  his  auburn  flight 
The  lonely  manger,  wherein  lieth 


ANYTA. 

The  sacred  Child.     Yet,  lo !   a  sight ! 

Athwart  the  air  so  thick  and  sparkless 
From  th'  Infant  streams  triumphant  light, 

Divinely  vanquishing  the  darkness. — 

Fresh  to  my  heart  dear  memories  bring 
That  pictured  joy,  thee  now  beholding, 

As  Cherubs  'bout  thee  sleeping  sing, 
Thy  tender  life  in  theirs  enfolding ; 

While  from  thy  brow  divinely  flows 

Fresh  conquering  light,  our  souls  illuming 

With  love  and  hope  it  silent  glows, 

The  earth's  dank  gloominess  consuming. 


24  ANYTA. 


VIII. 

They  hover  near,  —  like  sunlit  airs 
About  the  new-born  lily's  bloom, 
To  shield  it  from  the  wither 'd  doom 

A  stagnant  darkness  surely  bears, — 

They  hover  near,  the  ghostly  powers, 
They  fan  celestial  light  upon 
The  lid  that  veils  its  fiery  sun : 

Their  vision  guides  the  bandaged  Hours, — 

A  vision  that  nor  rests  nor  swerves, 

That  knows  not  darkness,  knows  not  sleep, 
That  long  hath  quit  the  realms  that  keep 

The  spirit  subject  to  the  nerves. 


ANYTA.  25 


How  solemn  is  this  living  death ! 
The  haughty  self  so  lowly  lain, 
The  muffling  of  the  mighty  brain, 

And  life  but  an  unconscious  breath. 


IX. 


As  cloudlet  silvered  by  the  Sun, 
Or  air-supported  gossamer, 
Thou  sleepest  safe,  without  a  stir, 

Uplifted  by  His  benison. 

Great  Sleep,  thou  liest  on  those  lids 
Like  a  warm  calm  upon  the  ocean, 
When  winds  have  folded  up  their  motion, 

And  June  to  brooding  stillness  bids. 


26  ANYTA. 

Lie  gently,  gracious  Sleep,  the  while 
Life's  inmost  channels  brim  with  streams 
To  ripple  soft  through  flowery  dreams, 

That  dally  with  a  waking  smile. 


x. 

Lift  at  last  those  lids  belashed  : 
From  without  and  from  within 

Counter  streams  of  light  are  flashed : 
A  new  glory  tints  her  skin. 

Wide  awake,  she  lieth  still; 

As  she  would  her  conscience  steep 
In  the  juices  choice  that  fill 

Life  with  savor  after  sleep. 


ANYTA.  27 


Still  she  lieth,  and  her  mouth 
Joy  exchangeth  with  her  eyes : 

As  with  breathings  from  the  south 
Flush  her  temples  where  she  lies. 


XL 

Lusty  freedom's  brave  child, 

Thy  dear  motions  all  swing 

To  a  rhythm  such  as  angel-ears  quaff: 

In  the  air  what  is  wild, 

On  the  earth  what  can  sing 

Set  their  chords  to  thy  musical  laugh. 


28  ANYTA. 

From  thy  black  impish  eyes 

Leap  young  goblins  of  fun, 

Deftly  mounted  on  beamlets  of  light: 

With  their  gossamer  ties, 

Out  of  mischief  quick  spun, 

They  fast  bind  us  with  magical  might. 

And  these  bonds  make  us  free, 
With  their  magical  might 
Unloosing  of  years  the  rough  hold : 
We  grow  guiltless  with  thee, 
While  we  move  in  the  sight 
Of  thy  joy  and  thy  innocence  bold. 


ANYTA. 


XII. 

Thou  art  a  vision  which  the  eyes 
Cannot  see  with  all  their  light : 

Too  far  a  mystery  in  thee  lies 
For  the  reason's  measured  sight. 

Thou  art  a  myth  entrapped  in  flesh, 
From  its  antique  cloudy  land, 

Delighting  in  the  sudden  mesh 
Spun  by  Beauty's  lithesome  hand  : 

A  Poem  bounding  through  the  leaves, 
Interlaced  with  sun  and  thee, 

More  true  than  ever  Poet  weaves 
In  his  gladdest  minstrelsy. 


30  ANYTA. 

A  beamlet  art  thou  of  the  dawn, 
Shot  from  Night's  high-peopled  blue, 

To  skim  across  a  May-steeped  lawn, 
Scattering  diamonds  on  the  dew. 

So  full  of  Morning's  healthy  gush 
Is  thy  motion's  fluent  spring, 

Thou  know'st  nor  noon  nor  evening's  hush, 
Nor  for  thee  hath  Time  a  wing. 

Too  nimble  thou  for  sense  to  catch  thee 

In  thy  mystic  joyous  dance : 
Imagination  e'en  can't  match  thee 

With  his  fleet  extravagance. 


ANYTA.  81 


XIII. 


Swift  minutes  run  before  thy  feet ; 
But  not  the  swiftest  passeth  by 
Till  he  hath  touched  the  springs  that  ply 

Thy  ruddy  pulse's  wishful  beat. 

Each  comes  from  far  to  bring  his  gift, 
He  comes  from  God's  eternity ; 
Mysterious  gives  his  gift  to  thee, 

Then  silent  onward  passeth  swift. 

And  lordly  Day,  when  thou  dost  sleep, 
His  vassals'  tribute  counteth  o'er, 
And,  miser  with  his  more  to  more, 

Rejoiceth  in  the  growing  heap. 


32  ANYTA. 


XIV. 

Like  matin-note  from  bridal  nest 

Entangled  in  a  blooming  tree  ; 
Or,  rockt  on  ripple's  trembling  breast, 

The  moon's  long  path  across  the  sea ; 

Or  foremost  sunbeams'  ordered  flight, 
A  gairish,  gleesome,  countless  crew, 

That  scale  the  dungeon-walls  of  night 
To  kiss  th'  expectant'  eyes  of  dew, — 

Like  all  that  best,  through  eye  and  ear, 
High  thought  doth  launch  upon  the  deeps 

Where  unseen  hands  our  being  steer 
And  life  with  sightless  movement  leaps, 


ANYTA.  33 


Is  thy  free  glance's  mystery  ; 

And  in  thy  voice's  maiden  mood 
Are  cadences  that  fall  on  me, 

Soft  echoes  from  infinitude. 


xv. 

Transparent  streamlets  upward  run 

!From  roots  that  cull  a  dainty  food, 
And  send  it  in  an  amber  flood 
To  meet  the  embraces  of  the  sun. 

A  miracle  the  summit  shows : 
The  overrunnings  of  the  rill 
A  broidered  chalice  scoop,  and  fill 

With  fragrant  flakes,  which  are  the  rose. 


34  ANYTA. 

But  pale  and  cold  and  thin  the  vein 
Of  earthy  blood  that  vivifies 
The  rose,  to  juices  hot  that  rise 

Ensanguined  to  thy  crescent  brain ; 

And  there  through  torrid  teemful  spells,  - 
Which  human  senses  dare  not  trace, 
Nor  less  than  holiest  thought  embrace, 

Perform  their  plastic  miracles. 


XVI. 

For  there  such  luminous  fires  are  lit, 
A  blaze  athwart  the  stars  they  fling, 
And  flashing  broad,  the  riches  bring 

Of  shapes,  sounds,  colors  infinite. 


ANYTA.  35 

And  others  kindle  warmer  yet, 

And  thought's  smooth  endless  coils  unwind, 

That  blandly  thy  new  being  bind 
In  law's  unseen  connubial  net. 

And  others  warmer,  finer  still, 
Upon  thy  inward  softly  melt 
The  loves  that  purest  hearts  have  felt, 

And  fuse  thy  bashful  wants  to  will. 

And  this  deep  inward  wealth  overruns 
In  featured  joyfulness",  and  dips 
In  beauty's  foam  curl,  cheek,  and  lips, 

And  eyes  that  borrow  of  the  suns. 


36  ANYTA. 


XVII. 

But  deeper  inward,  still  more  rare, 
Are  essences  that  swiftly  sweep, 
And,  glorified,  as  nimble  leap 

As  lightnings  in  their  boreal  lair. 

Than  rubiest  blood  more  potent  they, 
They  mete  its  currents  to  the  heart, 
And  rule  its  pulse  with  earthless  art 

In  supersubtle  ghostly  play. 

Earth  cannot  hear  their  working-hymn, 
Nor  see  their  billowy  hues  of  flame, 
To  which  Beethoven's  chords  were  tame, 

And  splendors  of  the  rainbow  dim. 


ANYTA.  37 

Streaming  from  life's  great  fountain-head, 
They  know  nor  death,  decay,  nor  sleep, 
Foredestined  to  upmount  the  steep 

Of  angel-summits,  music-led. 

Behind  all  thought  and  passion  sit 
The  immortal,  to  the  mortal  bound, 
And  watch  each  motion,  blow,  or  wound, 

With  looks  informed  from  th'  Infinite, — 

With  looks  more  grand  than  beamy  bend 
From  old  Olympian  battlements, 
When  to  great  Agamemnon's  tents 

The  Grecian  gods  a  greeting  send. 


38  ANYTA. 


XVIII. 

Like  the  violets  'veined  thou  cullest,  — 
Singing,  as  the  laden  bees, 

Untaught  airs  wherewith  thou  lullest 
Sweetest  inner  harmonies, — 

Is  the  pensive  opal  blaze 

Of  thy  face  on  summer  days. 

Like  the  restless  leap  of  fountain, 
Musical  from  morn  to  eve, 

That  from  distant  trackless  mountain 
Draws  the  thread  its  jet  to  weave, 

From  the  Highest,  dim  away, 

Comes  thy  tuneful  bubbling  day. 


ANYTA.  39 


Like  the  changeful  joy  of  skies, 
Flooded  so  by  western  Sun 

With  sweet  awe  they  brim  our  eyes, 
And  the  heart  to  prayer  is  won, 

Is  the  shifting  earnest  play 

Of  thy  childhood's  dimpled  day. 


XIX. 

The  Sun  his  children  doth  embrace, 

In  flame  his  arm  they  feel : 
Through  love  it  is  he  rolls  through  space 

Each  ordered  orbit's  wheel. 

From  several  suns  the  fervor  warms 

Thy  new  corruscant  path, 
And  burns  with  love  the  hydra-harms 

That  multiply  with  wrath. 


40  ANYTA. 

But  not  a  beam  from  us  outstarts 
To  beck  thee  on  thy  way, 

But  it  returns  upon  our  hearts 
To  bless  us  with  its  day, — 

A  day  elate  with  love's  own  light, 

Illumination  pure,  — 
A  spark  seraphic,  kindled  white 

By  inward  sufflature. 


xx. 

As  flusht  Aurora,  crowned  with  May, 
Snatches  from  Night  the  dreamy  flowers, 

Earth's  beauties  waken  to  the  day 
Of  thy  new-risen  spriteful  powers. 


ANYTA.  41 

And  one  by  one  life's  wonders  press 
Their  features  on  thy  molten  brain, 

Where  words  that  lift  and  thoughts  that  bless 
In  quivering  piles  are  hourly  lain. 

Like  pictured  cherub-heads  a-wing, 

Soft  glistening  through  fresh  incense-fires, 

Here  little  loves  and  longings  cling, 
And  peeping  buds  of  pure  desires. 

They  nestle  shy  and  close  and  warm, 
An  unfledged  brood  of  meteless  might, 

That  twitter,  chirp  and  flit,  and  arm 
Their  pinions  for  a  summer  flight. 


42  ANYTA. 


XXI. 

But  pinions  puissant-plumed  have  I, — 
Imagination's  brood,  by  love 
Requickened,  —  keen  to  soar  and  rove 

Through  the  deep  Future's  swarming  skj. 

Ere  yet  thy  paths  grow  steep  and  rough, 
While  still  the  day  has  all  its  bloom, 
And  night  no  care  for  one  to  whom 

Each  glossy  hour  is  life  enough, 

I  waft  me  to  the  rubied  peaks, 

First  warmed  by  Fortune's  gairish  ray, 
"Where  breezes  fan  the  heats  of  day, 

And  latest  linger  golden  streaks. 


ANYTA. 

Here,  with  a  thousand  shadows  chased, — 
By  foils  and  artful  mouldings  cast, — 
A  towered  palace,  light  and  vast, 

With  oriels,  corbels,  finials  graced, 

Looks  from  a  hundred  windows  out, 
Through  vista'.d  park,  on  leafy  forms, 
Gigantic  playmates  of  the  storms, 

Hoar  oaks,  that  help  the  tempest  shout. 

Within,  smooth  luxury  —  refined 
By  manly  need  —  enrobes  the  halls 
And  chambers,  from  whose  storied  walls 

Gleams  lifesome  Art's  transfusive  mind. 

The  air  is  sweet  with  courtesy  ; 

And  martial  wills  and  grandeurs  proud 
Are  quelled  by  breeding  in  the  crowd 

That  radiant  waving  circles  thee, 


44  ANYTA. 

Mistress  and  Matron  young,  whose  jets 
Of  speech  canorous  fountains  make, 
And  from  whose  breathing  beauties  break 

As  lightnings  from  thy  carcanets. 


XXII. 

But  wherefore  leap  the  jocund  years 
To  hang  upon  thy  woman's  state 
The  dole  of  gross  ambition's  weight, 

That  presses  out  the  bitterest  tears  ? 

If  Fancy,  hopeful-hovering,  will 
Dare  the  dim  Future's  silent  vast, 
Shield  her,  the  dear  one,  'gainst  the  blast 

Of  joyments  that  the  duties  chill. 


ANYTA.  45 

Let  Fancy  work  it  modestly 

Each  nimble  gleaming  spirit-vein, 

Intreasured  in  a  blossom-brain, 
To  glisten  through  eternity. 

Audacious  sacrilege  it  is, 

To  build  for  thee  with  wishful  thought, 
God's  fresh-enkindled  flame  inwrought 

With  earthen  —  greedy  fantasies. 


XXIII. 


And  Fancy  hath  her  craven  moods ; 

Then,  'gainst  my  heart,  she  cowards  me, 
And  through  my  pallor  makes  me  see 

Of  crime  and  vice  the  raven  broods 


46  ANYTA. 

Screeching  about  thy  shadowed  head, — 
Untimely  tamed  by  net  of  gray;  — 
Then  darkening  still  my  cold  dismay, 

She  conjures  phantoms  upas-fed, 

Dim  visible,  —  so  murksome  vague, — 
Except  on  thy  wan  features,  feared 
To  clammy  paleness,  as  though  bleared 

By  poison  of  an  inward  plague. 

Then  quickly  shifts  the  torture's  phase, 
And,  like  a  cave  within  a  cave, 
Sinks  to  a  deeper  night;    and,  slave 

To  terrors  undivulged,  I  gaze, 

Blinded  at  first  by  blackness.     Then 
By  silent  lightning  swift  is  torn 
The  pitchy  screen,  and  thou,  forlorn, 

Sittest  within  a  muttering  den. 


ANYTA.  47 

Ere  on  this  hell  sweep  other  blast, 
My  harrowed  soul  the  senses  shakes 
Loose  from  the  spell,  like  one  who  wakes 

With  dreams  unspeakable  aghast. 


XXIV. 

Cold  Fancy  here  's  no  friend  of  mine, 
But  traitress,  who  doth  dog  my  mood, 
To  tempt  me  with  circean  food, 

Or  drug  me  with  a  poisoned  wine. 

And  false  to  me  to  thee  she  's  false ; 
And  so  I  gird  me  'gainst  her  bribes, 
And  hearken  where  the  soul  imbibes 

Naught  that  or  flatters  or  appalls, — 


48  A  NYTA. 

Where  accents  free  are  laden  deep 
With  music  tuned  on  heavenly  bars  ; 
Where  pulses  throbbing  through  the  stars 

Temper  thy  motion's  joyful  sweep. 

Thy  lightest  plays  are  buds  that  hold 
A  rhythmic   life   within    their  flakes, 
And  through  fresh  orient  glancing  breaks 

Thy  noon  in  marvels  manifold. 

And  marvels  more  than  fancy  feigns 

Are   smallest   deeds,  so   dim  their  reach  ; 
Nor  can  all  thought  such  wisdom  teach 

As  thy  young  loves  and  petty  pains. 

With  these  and  these  alone  I  '11  build 
A  modest  future  for  thy  years  : 
I  '11  build  it  more  of  smiles  than  tears, 

And  pray  that  Heaven  its  sorrows  gild. 

1862. 


OTHER    POEMS. 


A   HAEP   OF   MANY   STRINGS. 

SOFTLY  doth  sleep  at  dawn  unlock 
The  forted  palace  where  she  broods; 

Then  back  to  their  chambers  instant  flock 
The  brain's  unnumbered  multitudes. 

Through  the  quick-opened  casement,  where 
An  hour  before  was  lonely  night, 

My  fresh  eyes  meet  the  crowded  glare, 
And  broad  beatitudes  of  light. 


52  A   HARP    OF  MANY  STRINGS. 

The  joyance  of  the  star-cooled  trees, 
Earth's  baptizement  in  dewy  air, 

Love-messages  through  whispering  breeze, 
The  sky's  gold  crown  of  misty  hair, 

The  winds  that  with  grave  shadows  romp, 
Splendors  that  through  the  glad  leaves  leap, 

Young  Morning's  sunny  piled  pomp, — 
All  these  are  harvests  I  may  reap. 

Nor  does  the  wonder  steal  away 
If  I  step  out  into  the  blaze, — 

The  broad  is  changed  for  subtler  day, 
The  grosser  for  minute  amaze ; 

For  leaf  and  blossom,  blade  and  bush, 
So  vibrate  each  with  separate  law, 

And  beauty  so  doth  all  beflush, 
That  wonder  deepens  into  awe. 


A   HARP    OF  MANY  STRINGS.  53 

From  sleepless  nature,  myriad-faced, 

Upglimmers  such  a  sea  of  eyes, 
My  brain,  with  sibyl-lights  belaced, 

Illumined  wills  it  will  be  wise. 

And  thought  is  chafed  by  orphic  hints, 
The  common  glistens  weird  and  strange, 

And  melt  the  firmest  forms  and  tints 
In  mystic  sequences  of  change. 

And  all  about  are  sights  and  sounds 

That  suckle  rapture,  since  began 
Creation's  radiant  rhythmic  rounds 

Through  rose  and  beetle  up  to  man. 

No  pulse  of  life  that  humblest  beats, 

On  earth  below,  in  air  above, 
But  its  unhindered  motion  heats 

In  healthy  hearts  the  pulse  of  love. 


54  A  HARP   OF  MAXY  STRINGS. 

Each  dumbest  creature  music  wakes 

That  through  the  deeper  life-chord  rings, 

As  love  upon  us  quivering  shakes 
The  warmth  that  lifts  seraphic  wings. 

Across  the  isles  of  joy  and  woe 

^Eolian  gales  forever  sweep  ; 
Than  hearts  that  faintly  feel  them  blow 

More  blest  are  hearts  they  make  to  weep. 

From  wide  still  burning  hearths  the  past 
Bejems  me  with  its  whitest  rays, 

Whitened  in  the  high  holy  blast 
Of  sage  and  poet's  brain  ablaze. 

And  in  my  jubilant  thought  so  nurst, 

Giant  imaginations  surge, 
.  As  they  the  bonds  of  clay  would  burst, 
And  daunt  me  on  creation's  venre. 


'A   HARP    OF  MANY  STRINGS.  55 

In  sleep's  far  travel  what  great  hosts 

Accost  the  soul,  we  cannot  say ; 
But  gifts  are  given,  as  angel-ghosts 

Had  dyed  them  in  a  higher  day. 

Great  lights  great  joys  forever  ply 

About  my  life  :    the  breath  that  warms 

The  Sun  blows  on  my  cheek,  and  I 
Seem  dandled  in  almighty  arms. 

I  am  a  harp  of  many  strings, 

And  all  the  day,  through  night  and  noon, 
Upon  me  God  his  music  flings, 

If  I  but  keep  the  harp  in  tune. 


56  WASHINGTON. 


WASHINGTON. 


THE    RIVER. 

THE  wooded  banks  are  silent  each  to  each. 
Far  sundered  as  by  rounding  lake ; 

To  grasp  the  tideful  flood's  ambitious  reach 
The  heavens  a  dim  horizon  make  : 
Fitly  these  woven  grandeurs  feed 

Moods  which  a  mighty  presence  here  doth  breed, 

The  fires  of  spring  are  kindled  on  the  shores : 
Cherry  and  dogwood  flame  in  white  ; 


WASHINGTON.  57 

Blossoms  in  green  the  life  from  sassafras  cores  ; 

But  warmest  is  the  redbud's  light  : 

To  each  a  deeper  glow  results 
From  his  soul's  heat  who  ruleth  now  my  pulse. 

Its  hungry  flanks  the  cork-buoyed  sein  spreads  wide  ; 

The  boatman's  call  is  heard  afar ; 
The  distant  craft  like  friendly  spectres  glide ; 

But  all  to  me  transfigured  are  : 

For  over  all  himself  impends  ; 
To  each  his  worth  benignant  blessing  lends. 

Potomac  !    great  thou  art  from  thy  great  flood  ; 

Greater  as  seat  of  empire  vast ; 
But  greatest,  that  thy  breezes  nursed  the  blood 

Of  him,  the  foremost  of  the  past ; 

For  whom  aye  sacred  shalt  thou  be, 
With  Avon,  Tibur,  holiest  Galilee. 


58  WASHINGTON. 


ii. 

THE     SALUTE. 


Once  more  in  hardy  conflict  met 

The  mother  proud  and  daughter  bold. 

To  slay  and  mangle,  fright  and  fret, — 
A  quarrel  that  was  new  and  old. 

For  England,  rankling  with  the  past, 
And  angered  at  our  forward  port, 

Insult  and  taunt  upon  us  cast, 
Which  first  awakened  rfo  retort ; 

For  ours  are  arms  of  puissant  peace, 
The  axe  than  sword  we  rather  wield, 

And  take  our  joy  in  sure  increase 
By  thoughtful  work  in  shop  and  field. 


WASHINGTON. 

But  England  pushed  her  will  so  far, 
She  threatened  very  freedom's  life : 

Then  flung  we  loose  the  flag  of  war, 
And  leapt  resolved  into  the  strife  ; 

Where  unknit  thews  such  buffets  dealt, 
The  unshaken  giant  heaved  with  groans, 

And  England,  startled,  bodeful  felt 

More  than  her  marrow  in  our  bones.  — 

That  through  the  Capital  was  heard 
A  foeman's  drum,  to  us  was  shame  ; 

Deeper  to  England,  that  she  blurred 
Such  conquest  with  malignant  flame. 

By  light  of  flaring  roofs  in  haste 

Her  prows  and  banners  seaward  turned  ; 

And  on  Potomac's  broadening  waste 
A  frigate's  signals  fearless  burned. 


WASHINGTON. 

Descending,  she  with  proud  disdain 
Anchored  abreast  a  threatening  fort; 

Then  stormy  poured  her  iron  rain, 

That  shook  the  shores  with  far  report. 

The  fort's  resistance  quickly  slept  : 
Dark  scornful,  on  her  downward  path 

Again  the  frigate  silent  swept ; 

Wrath  that  she  could  not  slake  her  wrath. 

Summer  still  warmed  the  autumn  wind, 
And  verdure  shared  with  reddening  tints 

The  leafy  wealth,  and  breezes  kind 
Shook  on  the  water  tenderest  prints, 

As  with  her  shade  that  westward  swept, 
With  spars  and  masts  sail-crested  all, 

The  frowning  frigate  mutely  crept, 
Like  goblin  through  a  festival. 


WASHINGTON.  61 

"Whose  house  stands  there?" — And  he,  thus  asked, 
Answered,  "  Mount  Vernon."     By  the  name 

The  Captain's  recollection  tasked  — 

"The  home  of  Washington  ?"— « The  same." 

"  And  lies  he  buried  there  ?  "     The  words 

Stooped,  laden  with  emotion's  load. 
"  Beneath  those  trees,  where  hymn  the  birds, 

There  is  the  body's  still  abode." 

His  eyes  grew  deeper.     By  degrees, 

As  one  with  vast  imaginings 
Possest,  who  in  high  distance  sees 

Resplendent  forms  of  palmy  things, 

An  earnest  joy  perfused  his  face  : 

Unconsciously  his  cap  he  raised 
With  a  religious  knightly  grace, 

As,  inward  wrought,  afar  he  gazed.  — 


62  WASHINGTON. 

"  Beat  to  quarters."  —  The  order  flew 
Swift  to  the  hot  pugnacious  drum, 

At  whose  loved  voice  upsprang  the  crew, 
Thinking  another  fight  was  come. 

But  soon  't  was  whispered  'mong  the  men, 
When  each  stood  braced  beside  his  gun, 

That  death  was  not  their  duty  then, 
But  calm  salute  to  Washington. 

By  the  strong  cannon's  measured  speech 
Was  tamed  the  roughness  of  their  pride, 

As  wrinkles  on  a  wintry  beach 

By  sounding  blows  from  landward  tide. 

And  when  had  passed  the  smoke  away 
Passed  too  was  hate  and  scorn  and  wrath 

Within  her  breast  was  night  for  day, 
As  swam  the  frigate  down  her  path. 


WASHINGTON. 


His  holy  strength  had  conquered  strife, 
Subduing  hearts  so  stout  and  brave : 

A  mighty  conqueror  in  his  life, 
A  mightier  is  he  in  his  grave. 


in. 

TRIBUTE. 

Sublimer  man  than  ever  threw 
To  eager  Time  a  virgin  name,— 

So  greatly  pure  it  quickly  grew 
The  wisest  monitor  of  fame  ; 

A  nation's  breath  is  breath  of  thine, 
Commingled  at  each  human  birth : 

Of  our  vast  freedom's  life  the  wine 
Is  drafts  from  thy  deep  manly  worth, 


64  WASHINGTON. 

The  robust  beauty  of  one  life 
Tingles  in  each  unfolding  heart, 

A  strength  forever  in  the  strife 

Of  right  'gainst  wrong's  compulsive  art. 

Sublimest  man  of  all  the  years, 

The  years  are  proud  to  walk  with  thee  : 

On  Time's  hoar  brow  thy  greatness  rears 
His  crown  of  lordliest  majesty. 


1858. 


PREVISIONS.  65 


PREVISIONS. 

YET  shall  be  waked  the  slumbering  years 
By  the  quick  tramp  of  guilty  war, 

And  blameless  eyes  be  scorched  by  tears 
Wrung  from  new  depths  of  old  despair. 

Hate  shall  yet  brew  his  venom's  blight 
By  heat  that  ne'er  from  vengeance  warps. 

Till  sleepless,  pale,  unpitying  night 
Casts  at  day's  door  a  mangled  corpse. 

5 


66  PREVISIONS. 

Young  truths  shall  still  their  counsel  keep, 
Silent  'mid  clack  of  hoary  lies, 

That,  servile  bold,  maskt  manhood  steep 
In  slime  of  stale  hypocrisies. 

As  lightning's  breath  at  tranquil  noon 
Upbuilds  beneath  the  western  vault 

Its  far-off  cloud-based  batteries,  soon 
To  volley  the  dread  thunderbolt, 

In  life's  warm  lulls  shall  still  be  nurst 
Hot  ires,  that,  foully  fed,  and  pent 
In  Custom's  coward  cages,  burst 

X   • 

On  the  rackt  world  with  ghastly  rent. 

And  still  from  age's  sensual  lip 
Shall  ooze  the  lees  of  rotted  truth, 

Dripping,  a  daily  upas-drip 

In  the  sweet  blood  of  listening  youth. 


PREVISIONS.  67 

But  truth,  though  tortured,  is  truth  still, 
The  stanchest  tool  wherewith  doth  ply 

In  the  world's  sway  his  regnant  will, 
The  God  who  can't  create  a  lie. 

Lies  are  all  human,  fibres  true 

Perversely  twisted  in  the  strain 
Of  sense,  that  lusts  beyond  its  due, 

Stifling  high  joy  with  pampered  pain. 

Nor  in  life's  swarming  womb,  where  sleep 
Action's  full  germs,  is  there  a  seed 

But  from  its  vivid  core  might  leap 
The  graces  of  a  sinless  deed. 

On  Time's  green  stem  the  clustered  fruit 

Eternity's  replenishings 
With  such  remedial  sap  recruit, 

That  age  to  age  aye  bettering  brings. 


68  PREVISIONS. 

Thus  by  the  soul's  aspiring  toil 

Her  earthly  garment  shall  be  wove 

With  ever  dwindling  taint  of  soil, 
Till  human  life  be  heavenly  love. 

1857. 


LOVE. 

i. 

THIS  sorrow-shadowed  world  would  sparkle,  bright 
As  painless  Paradise  to  its  new  Eve, 
If  earth's  love-woven  threads  were  lines  of  light  ; 
For  not  the  basest  bosom  but  't  will  heave 
At  times  love-laden,  and  the  many  grieve 
Love-anguished  daily,  while  to  most  is  dear 
Lone  life  through  one  or  more  to  whom  they  cleave, 
In  thought  tracking  them  hourly,  far  or  near, 
Sending  Love  warm  o'er  arctic  trail  or  desert  drear. 


70  LOVE. 


ii. 

And  drearier  than  Sahara's  starless  waste, 
When  winds  are  playing  billows  with  its  sands, 
Colder  than  frozen  moonbeam,  pallid  traced 
Through    Greenland's    slanting    snows,    the    soul    in 

bands 

Of  rigid  self  so  fortressed  it  withstands 
Hot  summons  of  beleaguering  troops  of  woe, 
That  myriad-tongued  with  thin,briarian  hands 
Upwail  and  stretch  from  their  dejection  low, 
And    moan    like    tempests    that    through    foundering 

cordage   blow. 

in. 

If  in  such  loveless  cave  could  live  a  soul, 
And  not  —  in  deep  self-darkened  dungeon  pent, 
Uncoupled  from  the  sunn'd  celestial  whole  — 
Lose  its  immortal  gait  and  hardiment, 


LOVE.  71 

And,  forfeiting  the  limitless  ascent 
Of  the  undying,  wane  to  earthy  breath, 
To  vex  the  sea,  with  wintry  blusterings  blent, 
Or  creep  plague-tainted  lusty  sheets  beneath, 
Or  howl   round  hearths  where   love   is  weeping  for  a 
death. 

IV. 

Full  blest  is  only  he  who  warmly  weeps; 
And  Love's  most  sacred  fonts  are  brim  with  tears, 
Through  which  grow  visible  his  voiceless  deeps, 
As   heaven's  through  night's   blue    gush  of  farthest 

spheres. 

These  drops  are  jewels  stored  in  toilsome  years, 
Wherein  Love  glistens  on  his  gala-days 
Of  sorrow,  sad  despair,  and  ardent  fears, 
That  rouse  great  Love,  who  foremost  pangs  allays ; 
For  his  wide  glow  first  fires  then  soothes   them  with 
his  blaze, 


72  LOVE. 

v. 

As  the  hot  helpful  Sun  Spring's  stormy  rains, 
Who  with  his  tender  bloom-enkindling  heat 
Strains  them  to  joyous  fruit  and  wipes  their  stains. 
High  partner  of  the  sovereign  Sun,  Love's  feet 
Glide  like  Aurora's  arrows  that  defeat 
The  flying  darkness  and  uplight  the  dew : 
Where'er  he  comes,  life's  beauties  rise  to  greet 
His  flame  :    the  faint  expended  old  renew 
Their  juices,  and  the   young  pant    for   the  good  and 
true. 

VI. 

Love  is  the  measure  of  the  more  or  less 

Of  depth  in  deed,  from  the  brave  lonely  fall 

Of  martyred  saint  to  nursing  lioness, 

Who  shields  her  cub  with  death.     Upon  the  pall, 

Folded  in  every  heart,  waiting  the  call 


LOVE.  73 

Of  deafchful  selfishness,  Love  throws  his  spark, 
And  like  benignant  light  that  rends  the  wall 
Of  cloud  to  hang  on  high  the  exultant  arc, 
Love's  raj  cleaves  the  bleak  tempest  and  the  lurid  dark. 

VII. 

The  tender  breath  of  timorous  spring  doth  kiss 
With  Love's  first  joy  the  wishful  earth,  that  drinks 
The  welcome  warmth,  and  tokens  of  her  bliss 
Soon  gives  in  blossomed  lea,  and  on  the  brinks 
Of  quickened  brooks,  through  hyacinths  and  pinks 
And  violets,  in  the  new  bridal  coats 
Of  amorous  flies,  the  clinking  golden  links 
Of  gleesome  matin-minstrelsy,  that  floats 
From    groves    thrilled   by   the    quiring  of  love -swollen 
throats. 

VIII. 

Through  the  croaked  plainings  of  this  jangled  life 
N"o  song  doth  sparkle  but  its  melody 


74  LOVE. 

Is  Love's,  whose  music  sleeps  in  hottest  strife, 
And  wakes  to  smooth  destruction's  deepening  sea, 
Wooes  the  palled  ear  of  pining  misery, 
The  sullen  eye  of  outcast  crime  endears; 
So  strong,  that,  were  Love  banished,  earth  would  be 
One  vast  encampment  of  armed  hates  and  fears, 
A  restless  desolation,  void  of  smiles  and  tears. 

IX. 

History's  best  beacons,  her  refulgent  torches 
By  Love  are  lighted,  whose  empyrean  fire 
Makes  Moses'  sacred  mountain  smoke,  and  scorches 
The  bush,  stifles  the  lower  with  a  higher 
Heroic  heat  in  the  doomed  Brutus'  sire, 
Turns  heavenward  Dante's  fruitful  look  that  roams 
Through  Hell,  deep  tunes  the  wistful  minstrel-choir, 
And  warmer  glows  than  even  in  tenderest  homes 
In  the  dim  vaulted  sweep  of  great  cathedral  domes. 


LOVE.  75 


x. 

The  starry  mazes  peopling  heaven  are  gifts 
Of  Love,  and  by  their  mystic  light  we  read 
The  cipher  of  the  eternal  hand  that  lifts 
The  film  of  seeming  chaos,  plants  the  seed 
That  grows  to  suns,  by  whose  great  touch  is  freed 
The  joy  of  hopeful  being,  and  momently 
Are  loosed  souls  multitudinous,  of  breed 
So  lordly  they  are  born  immortal,  free, 
Co-heirs  from  God  of  hope  and  faith  and  charity. 

XI. 

The  soul's  ascendant  recompense  't  is  Love's 
To  heap,  urging  life's  motion  toward  the  heights 
Where  man  puts  on  his  majesty  and  moves 
Erect,  purged  to  unbarbed  free  delights ; 
Where  —  feebler  feebler  grown  the  sordid  fights 
Of  self — activities  more  calm  and  wide 


76  LOVE. 

And  meedful  by  his  breath  are  fed,  and  rights 
To  duties  high  deported  so  allied, 
His  pulses  are  with  ceaseless  benediction  plied. 

XII. 

Tempered  in  us  by  Love  is  the  great  awe 

That  else  would   freeze   the    swelling   thoughts   tha' 

soar 

To  seek  the  all-holy  source  of  life  and  law, 
To  which  we  then  are  nearest  when  we  pour 
Ourselves  upon  our  fellows,  and  our  core 
Grows  seedful  ripe  through  self-forgetfulness, 
And  we,  feeling  Love's  health  through  every  pore, 
Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  godhead  press, 
And  blessed  are  in  that  we  live  to  love  and  bless. 


TO  A  ROSE. 

NOT  the  honeyed  bee  doth  sip 
All  thy  fragrance  blossomed  rife  : 

Sweetest  juices  from  thy  lip 
Go  to  nourish  higher  life. 

Human  souls  are  fed  by  thee  : 

What  thou  draw'st  from  air  and  earth 
Is  compounded  cunningly 

In  a  gift  of  moral  worth. 


78  TO  A  ROSE. 

Wisest  thinker  of  our  kind 

Comes  not  near  thee  in  his  walk, 

But  thou  dost  enrich  his  mind, 
Pendant  on  a  tiny  stalk. 

Nurseling  of  the  tenderest  air, 
All  the  life  thou  hast  to  live, 

Dearest  child  of  culture's  care, 
Is,  to  give,  and  still  to  give. 


ALONE. 

THE  widowed  mother,  one  by  one 
Hath  seen  her  children  drop  away. 

A  boy  was  left :  now  he  is  gone, 
She  sits  forlorn,  that  mother  gray. 

The  captive  weeps  upon  his  stone, 
Chained  to  the  narrow  wintry  floor 

Nor  voice  nor  eye  to  him  is  known, 
Save  when  the  jailer  opes  his  door. 


80  ALONE. 

By  wayward  shipwreck  singly  thrown 
Upon  a  distant  speechless  isle, 

A  sailor-boy  so  mute  has  grown 

That  he  at  last  hath  ceased  to  smile. 

Think  you  that  these  are  all  alone, 
Because  bereft  of  human  gaze  ? 

Never  was  aught  but  on  it  shone 
Incessant  superhuman  blaze. 

The  blindest  worm,  the  proudest  throne 
Are  ever  blest  with  company : 

Who  were  an  instant  left  alone, 
That  instant  would  he  cease  to  be. 

And  that  first  death  would  shake  the  stars, 
With  terror  rack  creation's  face, 

That  sprung  were  life's  eternal  bars, 
And  God  no  more  was  in  his  place. 


THE  DEMON.  81 


THE   DEMON, 
i. 

CRADLED  in  earth's  diviner  wealth, 
The  costly  breath  of  infancy, — 
That  orbed  the  ruddy  limbs  to  be 
Like  dimpled  coral  tinct  with  health, — 
A  new  soul  beamed  its  mortal  joy 
Through  the  fresh  eyelids  of  a  boy. 

ii. 

He  lay  couched  on  the  silent  marge 
Of  boundless  mights,  that  deeply  swelled 
In  tune  with  mights  that  in  him  welled,  - 


THE  DEMON. 

A  boy  of  look  so  lustrous  large, 
That  where  in  inward  light  he  lay 
The  happiest  sunbeams  came  to  play. 

in. 

And  with  them  played  a  sunnier  light, 
Quelling  with  swollen  tides  of  work 
The  jealous  stains  of  busy  murk,  — 

Beauty's  illuminings,  clean  and  bright 

• 
As  Seraph's  phantasies  of  power, 

And  to  all  being  a  sumless  dower. 

X* 

IV. 

And  still  another  braid  of  beams  — 

As  her  loost  hair  a  maiden's  feet  — 

Enwinds  him  in  their  hallowed  heat : 

With  such  electric  current  streams 

Love  on  his  head,  an  answering  flood 

Leaps  through  his  eyes  and  rose  cheek's  blood  ; 


THE  DEMON.  83 

v. 

So  that  he  lay  a  lump  of  joy, 
A  fount  spouted  through  hundred  jets 
Of  smiles.     And  Beauty,  pausing,  lets 
Love  have  his  will  on  the  dear  boy: 
For  Beauty  can  not  do  Love's  duty, 
Nor  even  Love  do  that  of  Beauty. — 

VI. 

Sunbeam  by  hasty  blackness  quenched, 
Of  light  were  not  more  swift  deflowered 
Than  that  blest  boy.     So  low  he  cowered, 
As  being's  pivot  had  been  wrenched, 
Or  he  had  heard  through  his  mother's  kisses 
Cold  whisperings  from  a  serpent's  hisses. 

VII. 

Lower  and  lower  quailed  the  boy. 

Choked  by  gaunt  Pallor's  pulseless  breath, — 


THE  DEMON. 


Wan  wafture  from  the  wastes  of  death, — 
He  lay  a  new-launched  wreck  of  joy, 
Wrecked  in  broad  day,  and  none  could  see 
The  sudden  rock  of  his  misery. 


VIII. 


Whence  that  despiteous  covert  thrill? 
Are  his  young  eyeballs  glazed  by  glare 
Of  bristling  monster  clutched  from  air  ? 
Or  are  his  terrors  ghostlier  still  ? 
Do  subtler  spectres  inly  creep 
Through  the  dim  chambers  left  by  sleep  ? 


IX. 


Mightier  than  even  the  might  of  thought, — 
That  grasps  in  the  gauge  of  its  great  seeing 
The  deep  magnificence  of  being, — 
Is  love,  here  to  its  utmost  wrought, 
Swift  filtered  through  earth's  holiest  part, 
A  trembling  large  maternal  heart; 


THE  DEMON.  85 

x. 

Whence  now  in  flood  so  warm  it  gushed, — 
Like  sane  looks  poured  on  madman's  eyes, 
Stilling  their  lunar  ecstasies, — 
The  boy's  cold  terror  melted :    hushed, 
His  tears  ceased  falling  on  her  breast, 
And  there  he  sobbed  his  moan  to  rest. 

XI. 

And  angered  Beauty,  —  quick  returned 
To  where  the  love-rockt  infant  slept,  — 
With  Love  and  Life  such  vigil  kept, 
That  when  he  waked  his  rose  cheek  burned, 
As  o'er  its  joy  had  never  passed 
A  viewless  spectre's  whitening  blast. 

XII. 

And  still  as  on  the  road  he  skipped 
From  childhood's  smile  to  boyhood's  laugh, 


THE  DEMON. 

At  times,  when  just  about  to  quaff 
The  cup  from  gladness'  river  dipt, 
Such  shadow  on  him  strange  would  fall 
The  draught  grew  thick  in  sudden  gall. 

XIII. 

But  on  the  panting  hearts  of  boys 
E'en  weight  of  shadows  cannot  lie  : 
Betossed  on  fitful  lights  they  die, 
Scourged  by  the  nimble  whip  of  joys, — 
Pet  brood  of  omnipresent  truth, 
Th'  invisible  spirit-guard  of  youth. — 

XIV. 

The  strenuous  ploughman's  obdurate  tread 
Less  cold  entombs  the  suppliant  flowers  — 
All  young  and  diadem'd  with  showers  — 
Than  fresh-crowned  manhood's  vaulting  head 
Scorns  the  late  urchin's  puny  joys, 
Counting  them  but  a  witless  noise. 


THE  DEMON.  87 

xv. 

The  boy  has  thought  himself  to  man, 
And  stoutly  covets  manly  prizes. 
As  the  first  ray  from  sun  that  rises, 
Striking  a  hill  or  barbacan, 
Chafes  the  strong  eye  of  plumed  troop, 
Embattled  for  the  lusted  swoop, 

XVI. 

On  him,  elate  and  heated,  blazed  — 
Like  beckoning  lights  in  happiest  dreams  — 
A  virgin  drift  of  Hope's  brisk  beams, 
As,  proud  and  glad,  he  dauntless  gazed 
Where,  glittering  in  the  dewy  sun, 
Wide  lay  the  victories  to  be  won. 

XVII. 

How  trustful  broad  doth  prophesy 

The  heart,  when  new  and  strong  and  good  ! 


THE  DEMON. 

And  truly  too ;  for  in  young  blood, 
As  in  first  Adam's,  folded  lie 
The  potencies  that  are  to  be 
The  all  of  human  destiny. 

XVIII. 

Yet  not  for  seer  fulfilment  is. 
Young  hearts  are  but  a  magic  glass, 
Whereon  just  flash,  then  quickly  pass 
Life's  gorgeous  possibilities 

Back  to  the  future's  calm  abyss. 

j 

To  sleep  till  light  shall  wake  their  bliss. 

XIX. 

Against  his  thought  he  soon  was  sad. 
Besprent  by  ceaseless  rain  of  sorrow, 
He  saw  each  day  entoiled  by  its  morrow. 
Coy  good  constrained  by  brazen  bad  ; 
Ever  beside  warm  quickening  wombs 
The  frosty  deeps  of  infant  tombs. — 


THE    DEMON.  89 

xx. 

And  now  th'  invisible  rays  of  thought  — 
White-heated  by  beleaguering  fires 
In  the  quick  furnace  of  desires  — 
Are  to  such  plastic  temper  wrought, 
They  forge,  of  mingled  ores  compact, 
The  humming  wheels  of  human  act. 

XXI. 

But  when,  hot  from  the  surgy  brain, 
The  generous,  guiltless,  young  ideal 
First  meets  the  old  grim  sordid  real, 
Like  heated  bar  immersed,  with  pain 
Winces  the  soul,  and  dark  and  cold 
Inward  recoils  to  griefs  untold. 

XXII. 

But  love  will  blench  at  no  ordeal ; 
And  who  shall  set  on  thought  a  cope  ? 


90  THE  DEMON. 

So  beauty,  love,  and  happy  hope, 
Young  mothers  of  the  hale  ideal, 
Who  in  benignant  longings  bask, 
Grow  stronger,  younger  at  their  task ; 

XXIII. 

Aye,  ever  stronger,  younger,  bolder, 
Till  from  man's  turbid  sleep  be  past 
The  shadow  by  his  day-dreams  cast, 
And  wrong  in  its  foul  embers  smoulder, 
Fused  by  the  crescent  Sun  of  right, 
Climbing  mankind  from  height  to  height. 

XXIV. 

Like  cheery  breeze-blest  galleon,  warm 
With  flusht  farewells  and  valiant  hails, 
That  smooth  from  festive  moorings  sails 
Into  a  noyous  night  of  storm, 
And,  shrieking,  straining,  leaping,  brave, 
Breasts  the  close  lightning,  blast  and  wave, 


THE  DEMON.  91 

XXV. 

Was  his  quick  launch  into  the  world, 
A  true,  bold,  willing  man,  whose  will, 
Affronted,  baffled,  wounded,  still 
Waxed  braver  in  the  shock,  and,  whirled 
On  the  rude  vortex,  drew  strong  breath 
To  gird  its  ribs  'gainst  inward  death. 

XXVI. 

Unlike  the  ship,  no  rest  had  he. 
A  stout  man,  with  the  will  to  steer, 
Leaves  never  tempests  in  his  rear : 
They  front  him  ever  angrily. 
Co-angered,  he  struck  stronger  through, 
As  wilder  blacker  storm-racks  flew. 

XXVII. 

On  life's  mid-path  he  stood,  unbent ; 
But  sad  his  eye  was,  and  his  brow 


92  THE  DEMON. 

In  furrows  knit,  as  if  the  now 

Despised  the  past  and  challenge  sent 

To  the  future.     Round  his  mouth  were  dates 

Indented  there  by  scorns  and  hates. 

xxvm. 

Not  one  was  he  to  flinch  or  falter : 
Nor  eye  of  man  nor  frown  of  hell 
Could  for  a  trice  his  courage  quell. 
And  yet,  as  with  himself  he  'd  palter, 
Or  that  his  ruddiest  heart-drops  paled, 
At  times  the  spirit  in  him  quailed. 

XXIX. 

Across  clear  onward  thoughts  would  fall,  — 

Like  shower  on  festal  cavalcade, 

Or  summons  on  a  bridegroom  laid,  — 

A  rueful  shadow's  sudden  pall, 

That  fixed  his  eye  and  blanched  his  lips, 

And  drenched  him  in  malign  eclipse. 


THE  DEMON.  93 

XXX. 

With  weird  alarms  even  sleep  was  shook. 
Athwart  the  jointless  dreams  would  crawl 
A  hideous  hydra  to  appall 
The  bravest.     Crouched,  a  dastard  look 
Glared  from  his  wrinkled  furtive  eyes, 

Greenish  and  circumfused  with  lies. 

• 

XXXI. 

In  a  long,  sinewy,  jagged  jaw 

Revenge  was  toothed  ;   cold  avarice  pined 

Pale  on  his  forehead,  intertwined 

With  lurid  hate  ;  in  a  vast  maw 

Were  crammed  mixt  crude  things,  of  the  best, 

Which  he  could  gulp,  but  not  digest. 

XXXII. 

With  such  associate  to  dream  on 

Proved  bravest  nerve.     But  now  'gan  loom 


94  THE   DEMON. 

Blacker  against  the  ashy  gloom 
Gigantesque  the  trembling  Demon. 
Then,  weltered  in  cold  sweat,  he  quaked, 
And,  shrieking,  from  his  torture  waked.  — 

XXXIII. 

The  moving  shadow,  worded  night, 
Unto  the  day  that  made  her  cleaves, 
And  lives  by  food  her  master  leaves, 
Gathering  what  droppeth  in  his  flight, 
Whereon,  through  the  veiled  hours,  she  broods, 
For  good  or  ill,  as  be  her  "moods. 

xxxiv. 

Only  that  form  was  haggard  night's  ; 
Begotten  on  shy,  helpless  sleep 
By  wilful  day,  who  bids  her  weep 
Or  laugh,  according  as  he  blights 
Or  blesses  her  lone  hours.     What  stalks 
In  shade,  first  in  the  noontide  walks. 


THE  DEMON.  95 

xxxv. 

The  strong  man's  strength  was  mastering  will, 

Itself  o'ermastered  by  the  blood 

Of  lustful  wants,  —  the  feverish  food 

Of  pampered  life,  —  which  when  they  fill 

Th'  imperial  orbs  of  thought,  usurp- 

A  throne,  and  linked  life  discerp 

XXXVI. 

With  bad  contentions,  endless,  black, 
Splintering  the  wholesome  man  in  two, 
The  social  both  and  single,  who, 
Self-tortured,  gasps  upon  the  rack 
Of  thwartings,  doubtings,  plots,  and  dreads, 
Like  one  who  in  armed  darkness  treads. 

XXXVII. 

Who  is  unruled  by  lustless  wants, 
Knows  not  his  rank,  and  basely  creeps,  -  - 


96  THE  DEMON. 

Whate'er  his  front,  —  and  craven  peeps 
.     For  harbor  'rnong  the  heart's  low  haunts. 
A  crownless  King  is  he,  his  state 
Sad  as  were  Eve's  without  her  mate, 

XXXVIII. 

Woful  as  sunless  planet  reeling 
Through  thickened  chaos,  —  or  an  ocean 
Heaved  in  perpetual  shade,  its  motion 
Untuned  by  light,  —  or  the  pale  feeling 
At  frantic  lion's  torrid  roar, 
Heard  on  far  Iceland's  arctic  shore. 

XXXIX. 

And  thus  for  him  was  night  in  day : 
The  sunshine  of  the  soul  was  quenched 
By  earth-clouds,  and  the  reason  wrenched 
Its  loyal  path,  the  upward  way. 
The  worst  were  not  mute  slumber's  gleams, 
But  in  loud  noon  the  conscious  dreams  ; 


THE  DEMON.  97 

XL. 

Day-dreams  about  the  night  they  make 
In  the  blank  future's  awe-hedged  realm, — 
Vague  misshapes,  horrible  whims  that  whelm 
The  minds  that  breed  them,  which  still  take 
Unholy  joy  in  self-born  fright, 
Hugging  with  vague  and  stern  delight 

XLI. 

Their  terrible  imaginations, 

The  fro  ward  offspring,  coarse  and  grim, 

Of  sultry  passions  that  bedim 

Their  life,  —  lusts  and  indignations, 

Wherewith  they  God  endow,  blaspheming 

With  their  loose,  selfish,  dark  day-dreaming. 

XLII. 

Now  sways  the  ghostly  infinite  law, 

That  the  unseen  rules  the  seen.     Each  hour 


98  THE  DEMON. 

These  phantasms  truculent  lap  power 
From  life's  selectest  blood,  and  draw 
Poison  from  healthy  juice,  to  kill 
All  generous,  loving,  kindly  will. 

XLIII. 

So  was  his  higher  being  curst 

By  mandates  from  the  lower  nature 

Of  ires,  anxieties,  each  feature 

Dark  with  a  darkness  inly  nurst, 

That  in  his  steadfast  face  you  spell 

Prints  grooved  by  thoughts  of  death  and  hell. 

XLIV. 

Death  is  a  dream  of  unripe  man, 
A  carnal  myth,  —  in  being  a  schism 
Impossible,  —  a  cold  egotism 
Of  crude  self-busied  brains,  which  plan, 
That  with  the  ceasing  of  a  breath 
Ceases  God's  law,  which  knows  not  death.  — 


THE  DEMON. 

XLV. 

The  murkiest  midnight  feels  the  Sun : 
In  total  shade  men  could  not  breathe  : 
And  when  in  ghastliest  umbrage  seethe 
The  passions,  —  like  pale  silver,  spun 
In  the  black  earth,  that  unseen  glows, — 
Through  dreariest  bosom  secret  flows 

XL  VI. 

A  thread  of  lucent  life,  which  chance 

Or  prosperous  stroke  of  purpose  bares  ; 

Or,  oftener  still,  spontaneous  flares 

An  inward  flame,  that  in  the  dance 

Fresh  leaps,  —  the  grovelling  dance  of  death, 

And  the  blind  heart  illumineth. 

XL  VII. 

That  is  a  resurrection-day, 

When  through  the  crusted  sensual  clods 


100  THE  DEMON. 

Breaks  the  self-loosened  soul,  and  God's 
Great  smile  —  first  greeted  —  shines  away 
The  terrors,  greeds,  and  spites  that  meet 
Round  the  numb'd  heart,  its  winding-sheet. 

XL  VIII. 

0 !  the  deep  pious  ecstasy, 

When,  from  the  smaller  self  upflown, 

We  firmly  sail  on  currents  blown 

Love-lifted  towards  humanity. 

The  far  Heavens  quit  their  frosty  skies, 

And  stooping  to  us  warm  dur  eyes ; 

XLIX. 

And  touch  the  brain  with  holy  calm, 

That  all  about  we  patent  see 

Divine  impulsions  working  free 

The  prisoned  world.     With  chastened  palm 

We  handle  commonest  things,  and  bless 

All  ours  with  the  new  happiness. 


THE  DEMON. 

L. 

One  he  had  been  who  sent  abroad  — 
Horsed  fleeter  than  the  tempest's  wind  — 
His  myriad  messengers  of  mind. 
Sent  far,  even  to  the  verge  of  fraud, 
For  homage,  power,  delight,  and  pelf, 
To  gild  one  petty  home  for  self. 

LI. 

But  now,  as  though  fresh  sap  had  shot 

A  subtler  tide  into  the  brain, 

Making  it  sparkle  in  a  train 

Of  glib  imaginings,  all  hot 

With  great  desires,  the  strong  man  grew 

Transformed  to  something  mildly  new. 

LII. 

Another  sun  rose  on  his  face  ; 

And  there  —  like  unbowed  prisoner,  free 


102  THE   DEMON. 

By  stir  of  slow-paced  liberty  — 
The  soul  came  out,  and  through  the  haze 
Of  ebbing  darkness  glistened  glorious 
In  its  own  light,  jubilant,  victorious. 

LIII. 

New  thoughts  gave  action  wiser  bent ; 
New  acts  gave  life  so  sweet  a  grace, 
That  men  looked  hopeful  in  his  face, 
And  outcasts  blest  him  as  he  went. 
If  higher  joy  can  be,  he  proved, 
Than  loving,  't  is  to  be  beloved. 

LIV. 

For  ripened  use  too  late  in  him 
These  selfless  pulses  of  the  heart  : 
Spirit  from  flesh  will  quickly  part : 
The  soul  hies  to  a  home  less  dim. 
But  not  in  anguish  part  the  two. 
Gentle  regretful  sighs  came  through, 


THE  DEMON. 

LV. 

That  freer  verge  he  had  not  here 
To  be  his  better  self,  —  for  earth 
Rebuilding  on  a  cleaner  hearth 
The  life  he  had  misbuilt, —  and  rear 
A  name  that  memory  might  hold, 
And  warmer  grow  in  growing  old. 

LVI. 

Soon  melt  even  these  unbodied  sighs  ; 
For  on  his  willing  conscience  roll 
Such  pageants  of  the  radiant  Whole, 
The  bounded  earth-life  from  him  flies 
A  speck.     He  feels  himself  to  be 
Parcel  of  vast  Infinity. 

LVII. 

A  freer  pulse  new  thought  upbears, 

More  true  than  life,  more  wide  than  dreams  ; 


104  THE  DEMON. 

What  he  had  been  locked  childhood  seems  ; 
And  earth,  with  its  earthy  wants  and  cares, 
Lies  suddenly  remote,  and  cast 
Behind  him  in  the  dusky  past ; 

LVIII. 

While  he  —  like  dawn  seizing  vast  glooms 
With  surges  of  its  easy  might  — 
Rides  forward  on  majestic  light, 
Mindless  of  flesh-imagined  dooms ; 
His  calm  clear  spirit-staring  eyes 
Ranged  far  beyond  the  visual  skies. — 

LIX. 

Again  the  routed  gang  remuster, — 

Minions  of  venomous  desires, — 

To  sway  him  back  to  stealthy  mires. 

Only  to  singe  their  wings  they  cluster. 

Himself  his  panoply,  with  arms 

Of  light  he  's  helmed  'gainst  wily  harms. 


THE  DEMON.  105 

LX. 

Still  unabashed,  by  power  unvouched, 
Through  laurelled  hopes,  through  visions  blest, 
Vainly  once  more  the  old  shades  prest ; 
And  at  the  last  beside  him  crouched, 
Like  baffled  buzzard  on  a  bier, 
Writhing,  unmarkt,  the  Demon,  FEAR. 


SONG   OF   BIRDS   BEFORE  DAWN  IN  SPRING. 

SWINGING  upon  the  edge  of  light, 
As  violets  on  flushed  April's  edge. 
They  ply  their  tuneful  privilege 

Yet  in  the  chambers  of  the  night. 

As  planets  speaking  from  the  blue, 
They  sparkle  in  the  silence  deep, 
And  their  unsullied  voices  steep 

In  moisture  of  the  fragrant  dew. 


SONG    OF  BIRDS  BEFORE  DA  WN.          107 

Leap,  dreamer,  from  the  dizzy  pool, 
Where  wicked  fancy  drowns  thy  sense ; 
Leap  to  the  call  of  innocence, 

And  bathe  thy  heated  instincts  cool. 

Sad  sleeper,  shake  thee  loose  from  fears, — 
Old  wizard  Dream's  unfathomed  cheat, — 
And  hearken  how  these  notes  repeat 

The  music  of  enravished  spheres. 

And  thou,  whose  slumbered  breathings  move 
Concordant  with  seraphic  lyres, 
Awake,  to  bless  thy  ear  with  choirs 

Of  warblers  singing  songs  of  love. 


CHILDREN. 

WHAT  distant  fingers  knead  their  clay, 
What  fervors  slumber  in  their  sleep, 

Of  all  they  be  unweeting  they, 

They  laugh  and  prattle,  kiss  and  weep. 

How  strong,  how  great,  these  little  things, 
Who  play  among  our  busy  feet; 

They  hold  us  with  the  gordian  strings 
Tied  by  the  heart's  enraptured  beat. 


CHILDREN.  109 

They  are  the  deep  perpetual  peace, 

That  underlies  life's  windy  war. 
The  limpid  unploughed  layer  where  cease 

The  rages  that  the  surface  mar. 


STRIKE   NOT  A   CHILD. 

STRIKE  not  a  child :   the  Maker's  breath 
Is  warmer  in  its  heart 
Than  in  or  man  or  woman's.     Death 
To  the  holy  spirit  is  in  the  smart 
Of  brutal  blows.     'T  is  sacrilege 
To  wound  a  chirping  child, — 
In  whom  God  just  hath  smiled, — 
Free  fluttering  on  life's  dreadful  edge. 


STRIKE  NOT  A   CHILD.  Ill 

He  trembles !  that  great  face,  so  fair 

But  now,  is  quenched  ;  its  flood 

Of  beauty  ebbed  inward  to  the  lair 

Where  suckles  Anger  his  mad  brood. 

Your  blow  has  thrust  him  ere  his  time 

Over  .the  precipice, 

To  the  black  pit  where  hiss 

The  scalding  lusts  that  chafe  to  crime. 


POETS. 

WE  haunt  the  early  mountain  heights, 
Flusht  by  the  dawns  of  truth; 

Here  rustle  God's  creative  mights, 
Here  we  can  keep  our  youth  : 

Rather  the  morning's  golden  flight, 
With  never  rested  wings, 

O    " 

Than  the  unwholesome  ignorant  night 
Which  too  much  resting  brings. 


POETS. 

We  crowd  the  glad  auroral  halls, 

Where  beautiful  Ideals 
Aje  brace  and  tone  themselves  for  calls 

To  earth's  abrupt  ordeals  : 
Better  a  day  in  Beauty's  school, — 

Beauty  the  bride  of  Truth,  — 
Than  months  of  seedless,  drowsy  rule  ; 

For  thus  we  keep  our  youth. 


A  KING, 
i. 

SOVEREIGN  he  is  of  throned  domains,  more  wide 
Than    Rome's    blanched    eagles    with    their    boldest 

wing 

O'ershadowed ;  or  than  in  her  sea-nursed  pride 
England,  whose  ampler  arms  such  realms  enring, 
That  round  the  globe  her  morning  gun 
Reverberates,  chasing  the  Sun. 

ii. 

The  Lydian  King  was  not  so  rich  as  mine, — 

Whom  Solon's  wisdom  snatched  from  fiery  death, — 


A  KING.  11 

Nor  did  luxurious,  learned  Lucullus  dine 

With  guests  so  finely  choice.     Napoleon's  breath, 
When  Monarchs  trembled  at  its  sound, 
Was  less  imperially  becrowned. 

III. 

Not  wreckful  spendthrift  who,  —  like  faithless  cask, 

Letting  rare  wine  as  plenteous  water  leak, — 
Wastes  handfuls  daily,  nor  doth  ever  ask 
Whether  they  be  copper  or  gold,  and  eke 
Would  rather  they  were  gold,  for  so 
He  furthers  fate  at  every  blow; 

IV. 

Nor  he  whose  ointed  palm,  like  the  sky's  sluices, 

Opes  only  for  a  wise  beneficence, 
Of  whose  compassionings  the  flooded  juices 
To  gush  watch  ever  for  a  sweet  pretence  :  — 
These  lavish  two  spend  not  so  fast 
As  he  whose  horoscope  I  cast. 


16  A  KING. 

v. 

fr)t  scented  darling  of  gem'd  women's  eyes, 

"With  his  happy  teeth  and  smooth  bemirror'd  curls, 
/Vho  at  the  glass,  his  shrine,  doth  sacrifice 
With  incense  that  around  himself  aye  purls, 
More  dainty  tended  is  than  he, 
The  pet  of  my  poor  minstrelsy. 

VI. 

Bather,  of  long  illustrious  lines  the  last 

But  for  one  tremulous  remnant  twig,  —  round  whom 
Convolve  the  chaplet  of  a  princely  past, 
And  love,  the  warmer  for  the  threatened  tomb, — 
She  like  a  tarn,  secluded,  far, 
That  lonely  clasps  each  stooping  star :  — 

VII. 

lich  lover,  and  more  rich  in  love  than  gold, 
In  bounteousness  still  richer  than  in  both, 


A  KING.  11' 

Who  with  his  bounteousness  makes  wealth  unfold 
The  plaits  of  love  and  his  intreasured  troth, 
Whose  tributes  so  his  mistress  cover, 
She  dreams,  a  fairy  is  her  lover  :  — 

VIII. 

Not  these,  nor  any  of  the  thousands  living, 
Gifted  with  spirit's  or  with  body's  goods, 
And  with  the  still  more  blessed  gift  of  giving, 
Can  give  like  him,  who  gives  as  do  the  woods, 
That  give  a  world  of  leaves  in  spring 
That  oaks  may  grow  and  birds  may  sing.  — 

IX. 

The  subtlest  visitors  to  the  large  brain 

Who  spirit-like  from  th'  Infinite  descend, 
And  ever  travel  with  a  glittering  train 
Of  halos  new,  that  with  the  old  inblend 
To  wield  the  top  of  privilege, 
Whetting  of  thought  the  restless  edge ; 


118  A  KING. 

x. 

Of  the  great  heart  the  dearest  intimates, 

Who  come  because  't  is  warm  and  warmer  make  it, 
Showered  with  love  that  from  creation  dates, 

The  Word's  winged  soul  and  life  of  Him  who  spake 

it;  — 

These  lordly  vassals  proudly  bring 
Of  crowns  the  proudest  to  our  King. 

XI. 

But  King  he  is  not  yet,  nor  to  his  head 

Will  fit  the  crown,  till  'tween  those  circled  bands 
A  third,  afire  with  gems,  outvaults,  to  wed 
The  two,  in  glow  as  of  celestial  hands. 
Like  Morning's  holy  rim  of  light, 
That  welds  forever  day  to  night, 

XII. 

And  thus  sublimely  wedged,  moves  on  the  earth 
Creative,  Beauty's  visionary  might 


A  KING. 

Enfrees,  where'er  it  falls,  imprisoned  worth, — 
The  mind's  best  pioneer,  with  its  lustral  light 
Giving  to  thought  a  fleckless  eye 
And  chasteness  unto  sympathy. 

XIII. 

Who  is  encompassed  by  this  tripled  crown 

Has  solar  warmth  which  he  no  more  can  keep 
Within  one  bosom,  than"  the  Sun  can  frown 
His  summer  beams  to  icicles,  or  sleep 
While  towards  him  in  maternal  May 
Turns  the  young  earth  with  prayer  for  day. 

i 

XIV. 

Of  the  best  gifts  that  knows  immortal  life 

To  yearning  man  he  is  the  elected  giver, 
Gifts  of  warm  truths,  that  feed  the  soul  till,  rife 
For  better  mansions  here,  they  make  it  shiver 
Of  strongest  Kings  the  strongest  will, 
Obedient  to  a  stronger  still. 


120  A  KING. 

xv. 
The  primal  hallowing  power  is  his,  to  feel 

Throb  through  his  heart  the  pulse  of  all  that  throbs. 
Dim  planets  that  in  space  their  splendors  wheel, 
Warriors  triumphant,  bondsmen  through  their  sobs, 
All  trust,  as  all  things  do  that  stir, 
In  him,  God's  meet  interpreter. 

XVI. 

He  sits  enthroned  in  Nature,  whence  to  his  brain 
From  life's  perennial  springs  run  rills  of  force, 
Which,  filtered  there,  flow  limpid  back  again, 
For  centuries  the  fonts  of  new  resource. 
To  one  whom  God  with  crown  erirings 
What  are  a  thousand  man-made  Kings  ? 
• 

XVII. 

His  is  the  right  divine,  the  puissant  lord 
Of  men  through  all  the  births  of  history, 


A  KING.  121 

Puissant  that  with  a  breath  he  makes  the  chord 
Vibrate  that  's  deepest,  truest.     Who  is  he  ? 
The  Poet-Thinker,  he  it  is,— 
King  through  his  fiery  sympathies. 

XVIII. 

Seek  that  exhaustless  land,  whose  seedful  dower 

Of  men  the  peopled  silence  of  the  past 
Enfolds  with  stately  joy ;   whose  giant  power, 
Rewaked  by  Garibaldi's  patriot  blast, 
Flushes  the  classic  land  with  sheen 
Bright  as  the  grandeurs  that  have  been. 

XIX. 

Adown  five  hundred  years  of  wakeful  time, 

Bequeathed  from  million  sires  to  million  sons, 
Undimmed,  unsoiled  by  centuries  of  crime, 
Like  Heaven's  unwasted  fire,  translucent  runs, 
Through  tyranny's  dull  desert  blight, 
One  quenchless  shaft  of  thoughtful  light. 


122  A  KING. 

^  (         xx. 

Dead  are  her  datard  Kings  and  putrid  Popes, 
Dead  to  men's  love  and  wants  and  memory ; 
But  in  Ausonia's  inmost  thoughts  and  hopes,— 
A  strength  and  promise  yet  of  victory,  — 
Live  primal  Dante's  quivering  words, 
To  patriots,  inly-flaming  swords. 

XXI. 

Hark  to  the  organ-swell  of  thoughts  that  teach, 

From  Luther's  home,  men  foremost  in  life's  race. 
What  gave  the  pitch  to  that  full  concert's  reach, 
What  still  is  strongest  those  vast  chords  to  brace, 
Binding  a  severed  land  in  one, 
Is  the  deep  rhythm  of  Goethe's  tone. 

XXII. 

Wipe  from  proud  England's  scroll  her  highest  name, 
And  the  sweet  manly  tongue  that  clasps  the  earth 


A   KING.  123 

With  freedom's  clamorous  voice,  were  not  the  same. 
From  him,  the  Seer,  dates  its  fulgent  worth: 
'T  is  he  swells  England's  brain  so  wide 
With  his  great  soul's  creative  tide. 

XXIII. 

And  we,  a  mighty  mother's  soaring  child, 
Who  on  self-balanced  centre  stand  apart, 
Irreverent  of  her  Kings,  our  sovereign  mild 
Thee  we  enthrone  within  our  thankful  heart, 
Great  Englishman,  greatest,  most  dear, 
Beloved,  revered,  becrowned  Shakespeare. 

1859. 


THE   MEETING. 

THEY  met  again,  and  they  were  calm, 

The  calm  of  happy  years ; 
The  memories  that  startled  both 

Dissolved  them  not  in  tears. 

The  past  lay  still  within  its  deep, 

And  came  not  to  the  face  ; 
Each  saw  it,  —  she  through  his  old  strength, 

And  he  through  her  old  grace. 


THE   MEETING.  125 

He  led  a  daughter  by  the  hand, 

And  she  by  hers  a  boy ; 
The  children  kissed  each  other  cheeks 

With  ready  childish  joy. 

Then  in  their  eyes  that  swiftly  met 

Kindled  a  tender  light, 
Shot  o'er  the  future  from  the  past, 

With  nuptial  blessing  bright. 

She  took  his  girl  upon  her  knee, 

And  he  on  his  her  boy ; 
And  thus  they  freely  looked  and  talked, 

Brimmed  with  parental  joy. 


DOWNWARD. 

DOWN  from  great  Alps  the  Rivers  leap, 
Slaking  the  plain  with  flooded  sweep : 
Shoots,  like  an  angel  on  the  sight, 
'Thwart  the  low  gloom  the  Pharos'  light : 
Humbly  the  wise  their  wisdom  speak : 
Forgiveness  stoops  to  souls  that  seek : 
Love  looks  its  strongest  downward  bent 
From  mother's  lid  on  babe  new-sent : 
The  highest  joy  the  highest  know, 
Is  to  work  downward  to  the  low, 
Melting  with  daily  dawn  of  love 
The  frosts  cold  Misery's  night  hath  wove 
Their  sleepless  vigil  in  the  skies 
The  spirits  keep  with  earthward  eyes. 


THE   YOUNG   MOTHER. 

EARTH  has  no  look  more  deep 
Than  a  young  mother's,  gazing 
On  her  boy  asleep  ; 
Her  eyes  oft  raising, 
Then  swift  descending, 
On  him  again  their  lustre  bending ; 
As  she  on  him  from  Him  above 
Would  look  a  sacrament  of  love. 


128  THE   YOUNG  MOTHER. 

Not  so  attended  is  the  mate 

Of  Monarch  in  her  queenliest  state : 

Sovereign  omnipotent  she  is, 

Her  subjects  peerless  fantasies, 

That  bend  them  to  her  farthest  will, 

As,  rapt,  in  wakeful  dream  she  stirs 

Musings  that  all  the  mother  thrill. 

And  what  a  dream  is  hers  ! 

Poetic  lovers  never  woo 

Ideal  words  to  paint  their  loves, 

So  warmly,  or  more  lively  sue 

Delight  for  gifts,  than  she  now  moves 

Imaginations  that  upspring 

From  her  heart's  nest,  and  round  the  dome 

Of  starriest  heaven  familiar  sing 

As  finding  there  his  fitter  home. 

Across  the  chasms  of  time  she  floats ; 
She  tempts  the  future's  giddiest  brinks ; 


THE  YOUNG  MOTHER.  129 

Of  space  she  leaps  the  shadowy  moats  ; 
Only  from  Hope's  fresh  cup  she  drinks. 
Thus  from  Fancy's  free  caressings 
Gathering  for  him  ripest  blessings, 
She  careers  where  life  most  glistens, 
Where  to  her  own  heart-wants  she  listens. 

Her  sleeping  boy!  —  He  stirs,  he  wakes. 

Quick  as  a  cloud  the  lightning's  bar 

From  Fancy  free  her  soul  she  shakes, 

And  swifter  than  a  shooting  star 

To  Earth  from  Dream's  loved  heights  she  springs, 

A  mother  with  an  angel's  wings; 

And  in  her  countenance  a  light 

Struck  from  creative  cores,  —  a  glare 

For  aught  save  a  young  mother's  face  too  bright, 

And  here  on  earth  seen  only  there. 


ODE. 

EMOTION  AND  THOUGHT. 
!•       , 

THE  floods  of  vast  EMOTION  heave  ; 

Then  towards  the  shore  of  sense  outgushing, 

Their  trembling  billows  cleave, 

With  a  moan-mingled  glee, 

To  its  firm  bosom,  rushing 
Thereon,  like  to  a  crested  sea 

Clasping  the  brawny  land, 

And  thence  rebounding, 


ODE.  131 

Its  sunny  kisses  sounding 
On  the  eternal  sand. 

ii. 

Not  from  a  rash  admiring 

Stir  in  your  amplest  deeps, 

But  with  a  calm  aspiring, 

That  ye  may  grandly  wake 
Your  great  twin-brother  THOUGHT,  who  sleeps 
O'ercanopied  by  visions.     Shake 

The  dew  of  common  dreams 

From  his  big  eye,  which  gleams 
Bold  lightning,  in  the  welcome  heat 

Surging  from  fonts  that  dart 

Creative  breath,  as  beat 
The  swollen  pulses  of  your  heart.  — 
Rouse  ye,  your  strength  with  light  enwreathing, 

High  sovereign  Thought, 
That  blest  Emotion's  procreant  breathing 


132  ODE. 

Waste  not  its  virtue,  wrought 
To  perdurable  forms  by  you, — 
Forms  beautiful  as  true. 

in. 

The  measureless  waters  and  the  air 

Keep  themselves  clean  with  motion, 
Bathed  ever  in  the  ocean 

Of  universal  light.     More  fair 
Than  "speech  can  tell 

Earth  rises  from  her  star-watched  rest, 
Resplendent  'neath  the  spell 

Of  powers  within  her  quickened  breast, — 

Creation's  voiceless  powers,  that  leap 

Forever  in  warm  nature's  womb, 

And  know  nor  check  nor  sleep, 
Nor  death's  material  doom ; 

Eternally  alive  and  rife 

With  affluent  life  ; 


ODE.  133 

Their  forging  might  revealed, 
Daily  on  mortal  vision  wheeled, 
In  beauty's  myriad  thoughts  and  forms, 
And  the  dark  majesty  of  storms. 

IV. 

In  tiniest  things 
Is  instant  revelation 
Of  this  transcendent  life,  which  sings 
Interminable  -jubilation, 

And  flings 
On  shore  and  sea 
Everlastingly, 
Ethereal  radiance,  whose  quick  glow 

There  where  its  fires 
Feed  infinite  desires, — 
Within  the  bounteous  heart  of  man,  — 
Is  deeper  now  than  aye, 


134  ODE. 

Flashing  new  light  on  God's  near  way, 

Inflaming  us  to  feel  and  know 

How  much  we  are,  how  much  we  can. 

v. 

Upon  our  opened  eyes 

Rushes  Infinity, 

Poured  in  us  from  the  skies : 

Eternity 
Broods  ever  on  the  inward  senses : 

The  centres  'we 
Of  such  circumferences ! 
Out  of  ourselves  so  far  we  stretch, 
In  holiest  moments  we  can  catch 
Glimpses  of  th'  unimaginable  glare 
Of  higher  homes,  and  list  their  jubilee, 
Voiced  like  a  million  clarions'  trophied  blare 
Heard  faintly  o'er  a  subject  sea. 


ODE.  135 


VI. 

Unhatched  abilities, 
Beautiful  possibilities, 

Live  in  your  soundless  deeps, 
Supreme  illimitable  twain ! 
Their  latent  life  it  is  that  keeps 
You  profluent  towards  a  higher  plane, 
They  who  uplift  and  lave  humanity, — 
Which  else  in  swinish  trough  had  lain, 
Unfeeling  of  Infinity, 
Unthinking  of  Eternity, 

Whose  awful  presences 
Transfigure  fleshly  essences, 
Swathing  in  a  pellucid  zone  man's  being, 
Through  which  he  feels  the  vision  of  the  Allseeing. 


136  ODE. 


VII. 

Immeasurable  Emotion, 

Unconquerable  Thought, 

By  whose  inmarried  motion 
All  best  ascendancies  are  wrought ; 

Upmount  ye,  interfused 

For  mutual  beneficence, 

Your  diverse  strength  conjointly  used 

Against  the  downward  pufl  of  sense ; 

Each  lifting  each, 

So  ye  may  reach 

Into  the  empyrian  day 

Of  supersensuous  truth, 

Whose  indefatigable  ray 

Knows  not  the  night  of  pause, 
Regendering  ceaselessly  worn  manhood's  youth 
With  the  ever  freshened  forces  of  anointed  laws. 


ODE.  137 


VIII. 

What  a  glad  awe 
O'erfills  the  expectant  soul, 
When  vaulting  thought 
Of  being's  courses  grasps  a  new  law 
On  the  scaled  ramparts  of  the  Whole  ; 
And  thence  supremely  taught, 

More  festering  rags 

From  the  cold  ^  back  of  ignorance  drags, 
And  grown  humanely  bold, 
Casts  on  our  nakedness 

Another  fold 
Of  warm  truth's  sacredness. 


VEILS. 

./• 

WE  move  within  a  world  of  veils : 
They  are  not  cleft  by  thrust  of  wil 
We  know  them  not  as  such  until 

The  higher  thought  o'er  will  prevails. 

With  each  new  throb  of  inward  power 
Another  mesh  is  softly  rent; 
Then  light  to  dark  is  quiet  blent, 

As  rosier  tint  to  ripening  flower. 


VEILS.  139 

We  dimly  see  till  we  create 

The  things  that  on  our  senses  rise, 
Enshrouded  in  a  lone  surmise ; 

For  all  upon  the  spirit  wait. 

The  silent  soul  is  ever  sending 
Creative  messages  to  things : 
On  these  a  yearning  ray  she  flings, 

Their  breath  with  her  diviner  blending. 

Her  life  is  one  long  slow  prevailing 
Against  recruited  sensuous  odds, 
Exalting  man's  desires,  and  God's 

Great  visage  more  and  more  unveiling. 


WE. 

WE  glimmer  specks  in  shoreless  space, 
But  motes  the  mountains  are  we  see, 
And  digits  to  immensity 

Whatever  here  the  senses  trace. 

But  this  immensity  is  ours, 
Partakers  we  in  sacred  rule, 
If  loyally  we  bide,  and  school 

Our  deep  immeasurable  powers. 


WE.  141 

From  astral  zones  upon  us  shoot 
Near  eyes  with  calm  parental  glow, 
In  whose  fine  mystic  light  may  grow 

The  sourest  will  to  sweetened  fruit. 

On  spirit  spirit  ever  ray'th  : 

The  free'd  from  their  supernal  day 
Beckon  to  those  still  bound  in  clay, 

In  them  to  nurse  upcleaving  faith. 

And  through  the  folds  of  living  dust 
From  higher  life  come  shafts  of  love, 
To  link  the  soul  to  souls  above, 

And  strengthen  freedom's  strength  with  trust. 

But  who  to  unbelief  doth  cling, 
Revolves  amid  unbodied  bands, 
Twitted  and  tossed  by  viewless  hands, 

As  children  blinded  in  the  ring. 


FOREVER. 

THEIR  flight  he  watches  wkh  feathery  joy, 
As  high  over  head  is  heard 
The  wild  flock's  cry,  —  then  quick  the  boy 
Wishes  himself  a  bird. 

The  youthful  man  upon  a  peak, 
Amid  a  mountain-throng, 
Chafes  at  his  limbs,  so  wingless  weak, 
While  he  riots  the  peaks  among. 


FOREVER.  143 

The  father  and  grandfather  hies, 
In  thought,  affection,  will, 
To  his  scattered  progeny;   but  lies 
His  crippled  body  still. 

And  what  are  these  but  dumb  foresight 
Of  acts  as  yet  unfreed, — 
Shoots  from  a  latent  life,  whose  light 
Foreshines  the  certain  deed  ? 

Shall  the  eye  go  where  the  man  can  not? 
Shall  thought  or  bolder  dreams, 
Whose  range  and  reach  are  aye  begot 
By  the  soul  that  through  them  gleams  ? 

Does  man's  deep  inward  him  bemock 
With  sham  presentiment, 
His  heart  with  moony  longings  rock, 
And  nothing  more  be  meant  ? 


144  FOREVER. 

Could  malice  strike  from  the  great  source 
Of  order,  reason,  love  ? 
Does  HE  give  feeling,  thought,  and  force, 
To  balk  them  from  above  ? 

Dim  prescience  these,  sweet  prophecy, 

Mysterious  far  foretelling 

Of  life  disbodied,  life  to  be 

With  will,  with  love  aye  welling ;  — 

Faint  whisperings  from  Jhe  power  that  roofs 
All  being  unfailingly,  — 
Soul-bidden  promptings,  hints,  near  proofs 
Of  immortality. 

The  present,  past,  and  future  clasp 
Each  other  in  a  ring ; 
And  if  of  one  a  link  you  grasp, 
Through  all  a  thrill  you  fling. 


FOREVER  145 

They  end  not  here  our  appetites, 
On  earth  they  but  begin ; 
For  though  our  bodies  rot,  their  rights 
Survive  as  bliss  or  sin. 

A  marriage  deep  without  divorce 

*  * 

Is  that  of  spirit  and  flesh, 

And  from  the  cold,  relapsing  corpse 

Springs  life  forever  fresh. 

The  body's  members  are  no  toys 
For  the  soul's  sublunar  play; 
But  counters,  that  in  griefs  or  joys 
Sum  what  the  soul  must  pay. 

How  fruitful  is  the  littleness 
Wherewith  our  souls  are  vext, 
When  acorns  of  this  world  express 

Oaks  rooted  in  the  next. 
10 


146  FOREVER. 

Aye,  thus  by  thought  and  phrase  we  split 
An  intermelted  whole  ; 
But  thought  and  phrase  can  sunder  it 
No  more  than  speech  the  soul. 

Our  worlds  are  one,  and  one  are  we : 
That  still  too  close  our  glance 
To  mete  this  rounded  unity, 
Is  the  due  of  ignorance. 

Could  men  foreknow  that  they  will  live, 
And  ever  be  themselves, 
To  the  self  a  higher  hold  't  would  give, 
That  sordidly  now  delves. 

To  thought  what  height  't  would  lend,  to  spy 
Beyond  earth's  finite  seeing, 
Life's  littleness  o'erbalanced  by 
Its  magnitude  of  being ! 


FOREVER.  147 

Our  lusts  and  pampered  tawdry  needs 
Pile  dread  upon  the  bier ; 
With  them  hard-hearted  Christless  creeds, 
That  brew  the  curse  of  fear. 

The  man  he  feels  no  blast  of  age, 
Is  by  no  sickness  torn:   ' 
After  a  long  earth-pilgrimage 
The  clay  coat  't  is  that 's  worn. 

The  spirit  keeps  its  light,  a  flame 
That  aye  illumineth 
Earth-paths,  as  well  as  what  we  name 
The  shadowed  vale  of  death. 


A   STAR. 

THE  moon  lies  still  beneath' the  trees, 
And  silver-spots  the  sleeping  moss, 
And  touches  with  a  ghostly  gloss 

The  leaves  unwakened  by  the  breeze. 

A  silence  as  of  myriad  swoons 

Drives  in  my  feelings  to  their  deeps, 
Where  still  more  awful  silence  sleeps, 

Mid  lights  more  ghostly  than  the  moon's. 


A   STAR.  149 

From  th'  eastward,  through  a  leafy  rent, 

Flashes  across  the  moony  sleep 

One  star  upon  my  inmost  deep, 
Voicing  the  silence  therein  pent. 

With  holy  glances,  diamond-hued, 
About  my  flickering  lights  it  winds, 
And  all  my  finite  tossings  binds 

To  fixtures  of  infinitude. 


MONODY  ON  HORATIO  GREENOUGH. 

THE  generous  hopes  of  youth 
Are  firstlings  of  our  affluent  being ; 
Born  while  the  heart  is  newly  seeing 

Great  visions  of  the  truth. 

Life's  morning  glows  with  fires, 
Reddening  the  soul  with  lusty  flashes, 
That,  ere  its  noon,  are  silent  ashes 

Of  dead  dreams  and  desires. 


MONODY.  151 

He  is  the  highest  man, 
Whose  dreams  die  not ;  in  whom  the  ideal, 
Surging  forever,  makes  life  real, 

Ending  where  it  began, 

In  visionary  deeds, — 
By  plastic  will  deserted  never, 
His  life-long  joy  and  sweet  endeavor 

To  prosper  Beauty's  seeds. 

'T  is  he  helps  Nature's  might, 
Echoing  her  soul,  whether  it  crieth, 
Or  silent  speaks  ;  and  when  he  dieth 

On  earth  there  is  less  light. 

Then  mourn,  my  country !     Shed 
Deep  tears  from  thy  great  lids,  and  borrow 
Night's  gorgeous  gloom  to  deck  thy  sorrow ; 

Greenough,  thy  son,  is  dead. 


152  MONODY. 

A  crowned  son  of  Art 
And  thee ;  lifted  by  love  and  duty 
To  his  high  work  of  marble  beauty, 

Coining  thereon  his  heart. 

Quick  is  grief's  shadow  sped 
Across  the  seas  to  Tuscan  mountains, 
Darkening  the  depths  of  living  fountains 

By  Art  and  Friendship  fed. 

r 

That  peopled  solitude, 
The  Studio,  where,  amid  his  creatures, 
Broodeth  the  God,  his  busy  features 

Irradiant  with  his  mood, 

Is  orphaned  now ;  and  pale, 
Each  sculptured  child  seems  sadly  listening 
For  the  warm  look,  that  came  in  glistening 

With  a  fresh  morning-hail. 


MONODY.  153 

These  are  his  inmost  heirs  ; 
In  them  still  pulse  his  heart's  best  beatings, 
Of  soul  and  thought  deep  nuptial  greetings  : 

What  most  was  his  is  theirs. 

And  they  are  ours.     Our  sight 
Grows  strong,  as,  compassing  this  gifted 
Enmarbled  life,  we  are  uplifted :  — 

On  Earth  there  is  more  light. 

February,  1853. 


SONNETS. 


SONNETS.  157 


TO   KEATS. 

OP  the  heart's  reasons  wherefore  one  would  know 

That  the  departed  live,  and  smile  or  sigh 

When  we  do,  with  a  level  sympathy, 

There  's  one  I  feel  an  impulse  to  let  flow 

In  tuneful  words :  it  is,  that  I  might  throw 

Upon  thy  listening  ear,  if  so  may  be, 

My  thankfulness  for  what  I  owe  to  thee, 

Imperial  genius,  who,  a  boy,  didst  sow 

Fresh  seeds,  of  quickening  power  to  men,  great  Keats; 

So  wisely  great  in  thy  unfurnished  youth, 

That,  what  had  been  thy  broad  Shakesperian  feats 

If  ripened,  swift  imaginations  gasp 

To  guess,  sure  only  that  sublimer  truth 

Had  more  enriched  thy  larger  rhythmic  grasp. 


158  SONNETS. 


TO   SHELLEY. 

UPON  thy  subtile  nature  was  a  bloom, 

Unearthly  in  its  tender,  gleamful  glow, 

As  thou  had'st   strayed  from   some   sane  star  where 

blow 

But  halcyon  airs,  and  here,  blinded  by  gloom, 
Did'st  stumble,  for  the  lack  of  light  and  room, 
And  strike  and  wound  with  purposed  good ;  and  so, 
Through  Highest  pity,  thou  had'st  leave  to  go 
Early  to  where  for  each  earth-life  its  doom 
Awaits  it,  as  the  fruit  the  seed,  and  where 
Thy  multitudinous  imaginings, 
So  truthful  pure,  on  Heaven's  fulgent  stair 
Fit  issue  find,  and  mid  the  radiant  rings 
Of  mounting  Angels  thy  great  spirit's  glare 
Adds  to  the  brightness  of  the  brightest  things. 


SONNETS.  159 


TO   COLERIDGE. 

COLERIDGE,  for  many  a  studious  year  I  have  been 

Thy  thankful  mate ;   climbing  the  misty  heights 

Of  speculation,  or  when  —  the  delights 

Of  great  imagination's  realm  serene 

Blessing  me  through  th'  impassioned  visions  seen 

By  ravished  genius  —  thou  hast  shown  me  sights, 

Revealed  to  mighty  Poets  with  the  lights 

Struck  by  creative  frenzy ;  visions  clean, 

That  mind  in  purgatorial  surges  dip, 

And  we  come  freshened  forth,  so  purified, 

That  ever  anew  thy  rich  companionship 

I  court,  to  warm  me  at  a  holy  fire, 

And  be  with  deep  soul-logic  stoutly  plied, 

Or  trance-ensteeped  by  thy  melodious  lyre. 


160  SONNETS. 


TO  WORDSWORTH. 

AMONG  my  unabating  joys  are  these, 

That  under  thy  calm  roof  I  pressed  the  hand 

Whose  life  had  been  obedience  to  command 

Of  rarest  genius ;   that  beneath  thy  trees 

I  shared  with  thee  thy  cordial  mountain-breeze, 

Answered  thy  speech,  and  looked  into  the  bland 

Mysterious  eyes  that  had  beshone  the  land, — 

Those  inlets  to  deep  beauty's  boundless  seas,  — 

And  there,  beside  thy  household  lakes,  did  hear 

Thee  laugh,  and  feel  thy  smile,  so  kindly  blent 

With  hospitalities,  that  since  that  year 

Thy  face  hath  been  a  loved  accompaniment 

To  the  grand  music,  mounting  tier  on  tier, 

That  to  my  thought  profounder  rhythm  hath  lent. 


SONNETS.  161 


TO   GCETHE. 

TEUTONIC  leader,  —  in  the  foremost  file 
Of  that  pickt  corps,  whose  rapture  't  is  to  feel 
With  subtler  closer  sense  all  woe  and  weal, 
And  forge  the  feeling  into  rhythmic  pile 
Of  words,  so  tuned  they  sing  the  sigh  and  smile 
Of  all  humanity,  —  meek  did'st  thou  kneel 
At  Nature's  pious  altars,  midst  the  peal 
Of  prophet-organs,  thy  great  self  the  while 
All  ear  and  eye,  thou  greatest  of  the  band, 
Whose  voices  waked  their  brooding  Luther-land, — 
At  last  left  lone  in  Weimar,  famed  through  thee, 
Wearing  with  stately  grace  thy  triple  crown 
Of  science,  statesmanship,  and  poesy, 
Enrobed  in  age  and  love  and  rare  renown. 
11 


162  SONNETS. 


TO   MILTON. 

BURNED  into  History's  high  beacon-page 

By  deed  and  thought  and  genius,  —  triple  fire, 

Seld-seen  on  earth,  —  thy  wreathed  name  flares  higher 

Than  all  men's  else  in  the  sublimest  age 

Of  England,  where  against  Time's  billowy  rage 

None  is  more  fenced  than  -thou,  without  thy  lyre, 

Whose  tones  shall  ring  till  pales  the  last  dim  pyre, 

And  crumbles  earth's  triumphant  equipage, — 

Stirring  meanwhile,  with  deep  sonorous  peals, 

All  whom  its  softer  notes  have  quick  entranced, 

Dulcet  and  manful,  —  first  on  even  keels 

Smooth  wafting  raptured  souls,  then  in  high  storms 

Of  giant  music  purging  them,  advanced 

To  where  the  holier  spheral  influence  warms. 


SONNETS.  163 


TO  SHAKESPEARE. 

CORUSCANT  Presence,  who  dost  ceaseless  shine 
Unbodied  benefaction  on  the  blest,  — 
Thy  lifted  myriad-millions,  aye  possest 
Of  that  wide  speech,  in  whose  unwearied  mine 
Thou  art  the  richest  vein,  —  phrases  of  thine, 
The  largest,  most  embossed,  the  fiery  best, 
He  needs  who,  cheered  by  gratitude,  would  crest 
His  love  and  awe  with  epithets  so  fine 
They  shall  exhale  some  flavor  of  thy  worth, 
A  fraction  speak  of  what  men  owe  to  thee, 
Thou  lonely  one,  at  whose  still  modest  birth 
Were  born  new  worlds  of  truth  and  ecstasy, 
Thou  great  emblazoner  of  man  and  earth, 
Thou  secret-holder  of  humanity. 


164  SONNETS. 


TO   DANTE. 

MONARCH  august,  thy  solitary  throne 

Didst  thou  with  solitary  wisdom  earn, 

Midst  want  and  gloom  and  exile,  stout  and  stern 

To  master  thy  great  self,  and  all  alone, — 

Away  from  Tuscan  hearth  and  children  blown 

By  Guelfian  tempests,  —  with  strange  power  to  turn 

Thy  soul's  hot  tumults  into  flames  that  burn 

A  world-effulgency,  while  for  thy  own 

Dear  land  thy  mighty  rhyme  hath  been  a  breath 

Breathing  from  Beatrice's  heaven  through  thee, 

A  breath  of  holier  life  heaving  beneath 

The  life  of  universal  Italy, 

Where,  sung  thy  song,  thou  passedst  lone  through  death, 

Ended  thy  long  sublime  soliloquy. 


SONNETS.  165 


TO   HOMER. 

IN  realms  beyond  young  Story's  dusky  day, 
Where  but  for  thee  were  Chaos'  lightless  rule, 
Thy  fresh  strong-souled  impersonings  so  fool 
The  senses,  that  we  yield  us  to  their  sway, 
And  clasp  unto  our  hearts  with  earnest  play 
Thy  Doric  brood,  in  whose  primeval  school 
Poet  or  sage  is  glad  to  fill  a  stool, 
And  grow  beneath  thy  fruitful  quenchless  ray, 
As  on  thy  vast  horizon  Gods  and  men 
Shame  history  with  the  grandeurs  of  their  strife, 
Inbreed  delight,  wrath,  wonder,  love,  and  ruth, 
And  deepen  man's  outworn  fast  fading  ken 
With  teachings  of  the  dear  religious  truth, 
That  Heaven  and  earth  live  intermingled  life. 


166  SONNETS. 


TO   THE   PRINCE   OF   WALES. 

NOT  lonely  did  a  mother's  grateful  gaze 

Illume  thy  cradled  brow;  but  from  all  climes 

And  continents  of  this  round  earth  came  chimes 

Of  love,  that  made  a  globe-enclasping  blaze 

Of  hearty  homage  to  thy  tender  days,  — 

A  flame  nor  quenched  nor  dimmed  by  changeful  time's 

Assault;  but  still  old  loyalty  sublimes 

Thy  manly  person  with  its  steadfast  rays; 

Wherewith  has  now  been  wreathed  a  novel  fire, 

Long  burning  in  a  kindred  People's  core, 

And  by  thy  presence  kindled  to  desire 

To  burst  in  buoyant  greeting  and  outpour 

A  great  Republic's  welcome  from  its  breast 

To  England's  future  King,  our  honored  guest. 

October,  1860. 


SONNETS.  167 


TO   ENGLAND. 

ENGLAND,  we  are  proud  to  be  thy  eldest  child, 

Thankful  to  God  for  the  rich  heritage 

Which  thou,  ere  we  were  born,  from  age  to  age 

With  thoughts  and  deeds  of  mightiest  men  up-piled, 

Too  great  within  thy  bounds  to  be  misled, 

And  thence,  —  wide  wafted  on  the  undying  page, 

Feeding  the  soul  of  hero  and  of  sage 

In  every  Christian  land,  —  on  us  have  smiled, 

Through  privilege  of  tongue,  a  daily  cheer, 

So  warmly  kindred  to  our  Saxon  hearts, 

That  we,  though  sundered  from  thee,  parent  dear, 

Have  kept  our  love  and  reverence  through  all  smarts, 

And  now  stride  with  thee  in  one  grand  career, 

Sowing  the  Earth  with  freedom  and  with  arts. 

October,  1860. 


168  SONNETS. 


TO   SCOTT. 

WINFIELD,  thy  prophet-parents  named  thee,  Scott; 

And  now  at  climax  of  delight  they  fold 

Thee  in  celestial  vision,  and  behold 

Their  warrior  win  his  highest  field ;  for  not 

Canadian  laurels,  't  was  thy  youthful  lot 

To  reap  victorious,  nor  thy  wreaths  of  gold, 

Inwove  with  Azteck  palm,  will  e'er  be  rolled 

With  such  sonorous  hymn  from  trumpets  hot 

With  fame's  fresh  breathing,  as  thy  present  deeds, 

Baffling  the  blackest  treason  ever  hatched 

In  the  foul  nests  where  brood  the  godless  greeds, 

Its  crime  foiled  by  a  steadfast  eye  that  watched 

Thy  perilled  country,  and  in  its  dread  needs 

With  duteous  mastership  from  ruin  snatched. 

Jcanuary  22d,  1861. 


SONNETS.  169 


TO  ANDERSON. 

GLAD  lightning,  on  his  myriad-footed  steed, 
Sped  o'er  the  land,  as  happiest  angels  ride 
On  blissful  errands ;  then  through  the  flood  tide 
Of  fiery  syllables,  thy  sudden  deed 
Poured  on  the  Nation's  troubled  heart  such  seed 
Of  power,  the  flagging  pulse  leapt  in  its  side, 
The  eagle  soared  sunward,  again  strong-eyed, 
Stout  men  looked  each  on  each  with  freshened  pride, 
And  stretched  to  the  utmost  admiration's  creed 
Towards  mothers  that  could  bear  the  like  of  thee, 
Who  mid  mad  shriek  of  treason's  thwarted  brag, 
With  soldier's  grasp  and  true  soul's  loyalty, 
Outflung  with  prayer  on  Sumpter's  martial  crag 
Freedom's  broad  shield,  terrible  on  land  and  sea, 
The  world's  chief  hope,  —  our  war-won  fulgent  flag. 

January  27th,  1861. 


170  SONNETS. 


TO   LUTHER. 

DEEP  in  the  sanctuaries  of  the  mind, 
Where,  mystically  fed,  are  fiery  wrought 
The  exulting  miracles  of  freest  thought, 
Where  boldened  wills  the  subtleties  unwind 
That  in  conspirant  coils  resistless  bind 
Man  to  his  broadest  duties,  where  are  caught 
Fresh  whispers  from  skyed  voice's,  where  are  fought 
Truth's  foremost  battles,  —  there  art  thou  enshrined, 
Forever  incensed  by  new  love  and  light 
Born  daily  in  the  aspiring  hearts  where  glows 
The  fire  of  freedom,  kindled  through  thy  might, 
Thou  Titan  of  the  Conscience,  whose  vast  blows 
Clove  Popedom  to  the  core,  and  freed  the  right 
From  Thraldom's  lurid  spells  and  deathful  throes. 

March  8th,  1862. 


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